


Hold You Up

by Potato19 (ForForever19)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForForever19/pseuds/Potato19
Summary: Ginny is with Dean Thomas, and Ron has just taken up with Lavender Brown. Both left dealing with unreciprocated feelings, Harry and Hermione develop a certain kinship that makes them question their initial takes on school, life and, ultimately, love.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** : I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Harry Potter Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**I**

Harry Potter stood hidden among the crowd of students gathered in the Gryffindor Common Room as they cheered the performance of their newest Quidditch Keeper. For the first time in a long time, Harry wasn't the centre of attention after a match, even if he was actually the one to win the game for them - his being the Seeker and all.

Instead, Ronald Weasley was basking in the glory as he stood atop a table, detailing every save he made that afternoon. Of course, Ron didn't mention anything to do with the Liquid Luck he may or may not have consumed before they took to the field, and Harry was certain he never would.

"You're properly the worst, you know that," he heard a voice say from behind him, automatically bringing a smile to his face. Hermione Granger stepped forward from her position just behind him to his left. "He's never going to stop now. The next few years are going to be unbearable."

That made Harry laugh. "Well, then, this is my apologising in advance for what we're about to endure."

Hermione regarded the boy to her right for a moment. "It's nice to see you smile," she eventually said, knowing that she would make him feel uncomfortable with her words. Nevertheless, it had to be said.

Harry shifted from foot to foot, his eyes looking at his best friend on the table again. He didn't know what to say to her comment. The truth really was that he was convinced nobody was paying enough attention to notice. Although, he had to admit he wasn't surprised it was Hermione. It was also becoming increasingly difficult to keep up the façade that the current events of the year weren't bothering him.

"Didn't think I would pick up on it, did you?" Hermione continued, keeping her eyes on him.

"We did just beat Slytherin, Hermione," he finally said, sidestepping her comments. The last thing he wanted was to get anywhere close to _this_ conversation in a room full of their classmates. "Am I not allowed to be happy about that?"

"Well, technically, no, not if you cheated," she pointed out, her voice dropping to a volume only he could hear. Even though she disapproved, she had no intention of getting him in trouble.

Harry turned his body to look at her. "You're one to talk, by the way. How is what I supposedly did any different from what you did?"

Hermione should have expected him to refer to her magical intervention during the Quidditch tryouts that invariably led to Ron being chosen as their new keeper. "That was different because this is a match, Harry. You could get expelled."

"Or worse, killed," he said quickly, mischief glinting in his eyes. He would never let her forget where her priorities lay, especially now that the three of them had managed to escape death on so many occasions.

She fought a smile. "I'm trying to be serious here."

"As am I," he said, leaning in a bit closer to her so only she could hear his next words. "And, for your information, I didn't cheat," he said seriously.

Hermione could tell he was telling the truth, which made her frown. "I was there before the game, Harry. I saw you put that vial of Liquid Luck into his cup."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Did you now? Did you actually _see_ me pour it in?"

She was still frowning. "Are you trying to tell me that you didn't actually pour anything into his cup?"

He didn't answer as he reached for something in the front pocket of his shirt. "I didn't," he admitted, pulling out the still full vial of clear liquid and showing it to her.

"You only pretended to," she said, nodding her understanding.

"What?" Harry asked innocently, pocketing the vial once more. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you disapprove."

She nudged him with her elbow. "I do not disapprove. I suppose I'm just a bit surprised. Who knew you could be so sneaky?"

He smiled at her, proud that he had somehow managed to outsmart her. "That's not the question to be asking. You should be asking, who knew that psychology would be equally effective as magic?"

Before Hermione could respond, the common room erupted in loud applause and vehement cheering, stealing Harry's attention away from Hermione. He turned towards the commotion to see Ron held in a lip-lock with another Gryffindor sixth year, Lavender Brown.

Harry's amusement at Ron's sudden inability to talk was cut short by the feel of cold space behind him, which forced him to turn back. Hermione was no longer there. She was heading away rather abruptly and he just managed to catch sight of her loose brown hair bouncing away in a hurry. The sick feeling that something wasn't right with her made his breath catch.

Without much thinking, Harry followed Hermione out of the Gryffindor common room, feeling like it was the thing he had to do; he wanted to do. He used the sound of quiet sobs to guide him, which were becoming harder and harder to handle the closer he got.

Hermione was seated on the third step of the stairs leading up to Gryffindor tower when he finally found her. She heard him approach, the sounds of his steps all too familiar to her in the dark corridors. She would recognise them anywhere.

"Charm spell," she spoke first, acknowledging the canaries flying around just above her head before he asked about them. "I'm just practicing."

"Well," Harry sounded, moving to sit down beside her. "They're really good, as expected."

Hermione waited a moment in their silence before she seemed to make a decision. This was Harry. She could trust Harry with her thoughts and feelings, just as he could trust her. She took a deep breath and turned to look at him before she asked her question. "How does it feel, Harry, when you see Dean with Ginny?"

His body tensed in panic. "Oh, umm," he mumbled, unsure what to say. His mind told him to deny but the memory of the sounds of her sobs told him that this was no time to lie; not that he thought he could actually tell her an untruth. The foundation for their relationship really was built on profound truth.

"I know," she said, having felt the air between them grow cold. "I see the way you look at her. You're my best friend. How could I not see it?"

Her words did nothing to calm him but, before he could respond, Ron and Lavender came rolling in, giggling together. They came to an awkward and sudden stop when they spotted Harry and Hermione seated at the bottom of the steps.

"Oops," Lavender sounded, her annoying voice filling the darkness. "I think this room is taken," she faux whispered to Ron, keeping a firm hold on his arm. "Let's go somewhere else; somewhere more private." She giggled once more before she headed back out, expecting Ron to follow.

He didn't. He kept his eyes trained on his two best friends instead, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "Everything all right?" he asked.

Hermione didn't trust herself to respond and, at the sight of her lips pressed together; Harry thought it best to speak up.

"All right," he assured his friend. "It was just getting a bit stuffy in there."

"Right," he said, nodding. "So what's with the birds then?" It was a question directed at Hermione, which he should have realised was a terrible mistake.

Without answering, Hermione rose to her feet, her eyes steel. Her voice was equally as hard when she spoke. "Oppugno."

The canaries quickly moved from flying innocently in a circle into a triangular formation, clearly preparing for attack. Sensing it, Ron began to back away, the question never leaving his mouth.

At the stamp of Hermione's foot, the canaries headed straight for Ron, which sent the ginger-haired boy running for safety. The birds eventually crashed into a wall behind where he once stood, silencing them all.

Without another word, Ron disappeared, not wanting to anger her any further; even though he wasn't particularly sure he had actually done anything wrong. Although, she could have been angry at anything he had done in the past six years. The female half of their species could be like that. His mother was still holding the incident with the flying car over his head. He was sure that, even when he was old and grey, the woman would still refer to it whenever she could.

Hermione fought the flurry of tears as she sat back down next to Harry but it didn't seem to be working. The battle of the sobs continued until they eventually turned into a fit of laughter, which really only confused the boy sitting to her left.

"Umm, Hermione," Harry queried. "Are you all right?"

She stopped laughing quite suddenly. "Do you think that was maybe a little dramatic?"

Harry risked a smile. "Well, I wasn't going to say anything but now that you mention it…"

"Oh hush," she said, softly punching him in the arm. "Or I'll end up charming a set of birds just for you."

They descended into comfortable silence after that, the tears temporarily pushed aside. Truthfully, it had been quite a whirlwind of a day and Harry hated that it was ending this way. He didn't want his best friend to cry, for any reason. Especially not on the day they beat their arch rivals Slytherin at Quidditch.

Not any day.

"Umm," he sounded, breaking the silence and getting her attention. "That thing you were saying about Ginny…"

"Don't worry," she said quickly, saving him from having to finish. "I won't tell anyone; least of all Ginny. Or worse, Ron. Your secret is safe with me."

He let out a relieved breath. Then, more out of curiosity, he asked: "Is it really that obvious?"

"Apparently not," she answered thoughtfully. "I don't think you even had a clue until you found out that she started dating Dean."

Harry turned his head to look directly at her. "Well, did you know you fancied Ron before Lavender? Or Cormac?"

A response didn't come immediately, which told him all he needed to know. In fact, no response actually came. It seemed to be a thought that was really bothering her.

"How did we get here, Hermione?" he asked, sounding oddly defeated.

"Whatever triggered the feelings doesn't matter," Hermione responded eventually. "Just that they were. It's up to us to deal with them now."

"On top of everything else."

"Welcome to sixth year," she muttered under her breath. "It will only be as great as we make it." Her tone lacked any conviction, which told him that she didn't quite believe it herself.

Harry leaned back, thinking hard about his situation once more. "I suppose it would help if she were happy, you know," he found himself saying. "It's all I really want, right? Well, all I should want. Ginny should be happy. It's what I want for her. Even if it isn't with me."

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder, her way of comforting him. "Then you're definitely a better person than I am."

His eyes settled on her, a certain kind of mischief glinting in them. "Well, we already knew that." He endured another – harder – punch to the arm before he ran a hand through his hair, his palm coming to rest against the back of his neck.

They fell into that comfortable silence again. The sounds of voices seemed very distant, existing only in the background. Something was happening in that very moment, and they both knew it.

It was Hermione who asked the question. "We're going to be fine, right?"

Harry didn't know how to respond to that.

"Tell me that it'll eventually stop hurting like this."

Still, he had no words. And the sounds of her returning sobs meant that he definitely couldn't lie. So, instead, they sat in silence, Hermione's head eventually coming to rest on his shoulder. Harry shifted in closer, linking their arms. He had a feeling this was the way it would always be, and a part of him would have been perfectly fine with that. There were far worse things in life than having Hermione Granger sitting right beside him.

* * *

"Good morning," Harry remarked, sliding into position beside Hermione for breakfast the very next morning. "How are we feeling today?"

Hermione had to admit she was surprised by his mood. Once he was settled, she regarded him for a moment. He was, unfortunately, a master of hiding his truth and she needed to see his eyes to be able to tell what was really going on with him. "Harry, are you all right?" she had to ask, worry clear in her tone.

He nodded, reaching for a slice of toast. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

She bit her bottom lip in thought. In the end, her worry vastly overweighed his blatant attempt at avoidance. "Well, I don't know," she said, raising an eyebrow rather sarcastically. "Last night was quite a loaded one. Full of some several revelations."

"That's true," he agreed. "But surely then I should be asking if you're the one who's all right. I've had a lot longer to deal with my Ginny problem. And I'll have you know that I didn't send any charmed canaries her way either."

"Haha," she faked a laugh. "But tell me the truth. Does it look like I've been crying?"

Harry looked at her then. In fact, it was probably the first time he had looked at her, and actually seen her. Her eyes were a perfect brown, drawing him in. Harry hadn't noticed before. She also had the slightest laugh lines around her eyes and, of course, the growing frown lines on her forehead. Schoolwork tended to do that to a person.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, starting to feel a little self-conscious under his scrutiny.

He cleared his throat, remembering himself. "Umm, what exactly am I looking for?"

She frowned. "Never mind. You're probably the wrong person to ask anyway."

He turned his attention back to the slice of toast on his plate. "Probably," he agreed.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Harry busied himself with spreading some butter on his toast, eventually nibbling on it, while Hermione nursed a bowl of cereal. It was painfully clear to both of them that neither of them was particularly hungry.

Hermione's sudden gasp made Harry turn to her. "What? What's wrong?"

"He's headed this way," she mumbled, clearly referring to Ron. "What do I do? What if he says something?"

Harry put a calming hand on her arm. "He won't."

Her eyes snapped towards him. "How do you know? Did you two talk? What did he say?"

He had to blink a few times to ward off how overwhelmed her questions made him. "I just do. No we didn't. Nothing."

She let out a breath. "Sorry," she said, patting the hand of his that was on her arm. "I'm just a bit rattled. I suppose I merely assumed that we Ron and I had taken some kind of step forward, what with the Slug Club party coming up."

The party. Ah. Harry had almost forgotten. Well, he was desperately trying to forget about it. The truth was that the whole thing didn't seem at all appealing to him. It was just plain masochism to get all dressed up to watch the girl you like dance with someone else. He imagined it would be about the same as getting struck by lightning.

"Who are you planning on taking, by the way?" Hermione asked, trying her best not to pay attention to the fact that Ron made a pit stop at Lavender before eventually heading their way.

Harry didn't have an answer for her. And Ron's arrival seemed to save him from having to give her one for the time being.

"Morning," Ron said, sliding into position on the opposite side of the long table and immediately digging into his breakfast. He decided that was all he would say, in case Hermione sent him flying across the room. It wouldn't be the first time.

They endured a few more minutes of complete silence before Hermione excused herself and stood up. "I will see you both in Herbology."

Harry gave her a pleading look, silently begging her not to leave him with the questions Ron was surely bound to ask once she left the Great Hall.

She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder before she started walking away, barely acknowledging the food-filled grunt Ron gave her.

Ron didn't even wait until she was out of sight. Once she was out of earshot, he spoke up. "What is her problem anyway?"

Harry didn't respond immediately. There was no way he could tell him about Hermione's feelings. She would kill him. That was what he told himself, at least. Harry couldn't quite stop himself from thinking that he quite enjoyed being the only person who knew.

"I mean, seriously," Ron continued. "I don't see what's so wrong. It's not as if I'm about to marry Lavender or anything."

Harry still wasn't sure what to say. There wasn't much he felt he could say anyway. So, being the best friend he was supposed to be, at least to Ron; he decided to be happy about it. He leaned forward. "So," he almost sang, his face breaking into a big smile. "You and Lavender, huh?"

Ron's face turned the colour of his hair. "She's relentless, that one," he said, laughing. "I'm not sure exactly what we have going on but I find I'm rather excited by it all."

"Good," Harry found himself saying. "I'm really happy for you."

Ron stopped eating for a moment. It was only a moment, which was enough of a milestone when it came to Ronald Weasley and his food. "Why couldn't Hermione have just said that?"

Harry wanted to tell him that she couldn't because then she would be lying, but that would have opened up an entirely new can of worms.

"And don't say it's because she's been the only girl in our lives for a while, and she's not used to it… because she was perfectly fine when you liked Cho."

Harry took a breath to think about that. Ron was right in that regard. Hermione had been more than fine with it. She also seemed to be fine with his liking Ginny. She was fine with all of it, which actually made him feel uncomfortable. It was a perplexing feeling, really, that he wasn't quite ready to dissect.

"Maybe it's that time of month," Ron concluded. "That's when girls tend to get crazy."

Harry neither agreed nor contradicted him. This was a part of their lives from which he would like to move on. And plus, he had his own feelings to worry about. He risked a look in Ginny's direction. She was sitting a few metres away, surrounded by girls from her own year, talking rather gleefully about something he couldn't make out.

Despite himself, Harry found himself smiling at her smile.

Before anyone caught him out, he stopped quite suddenly. He cleared his throat and looked up to find Ron staring at him.

"You and Hermione both," Ron said, shaking his head. "All kinds of weird today."

Harry tried to laugh it off. "I'm still delirious after that win over Slytherin," he said, knowing full well that getting Ron to talk about Quidditch was always a good distraction.

* * *

The day went slowly. In fact, it was probably the slowest day Hermione had ever experienced. She was normally very focused in class – bar Professor Trelawney's gabble – but this day was different. She had never allowed her emotions to dictate her approach to her schoolwork and she was at a stump as to whom to talk to about it.

There was Luna, of course. Only, Hermione wasn't entirely sure she was patient enough to sit through Luna's way of looking at the world.

Then there was Ginny. Hermione didn't feel comfortable with that though. She convinced herself it was because she wouldn't be able to talk to her about Ron, her brother. That was the reason. It was definitely the reason.

And then there was Harry. Oh Harry. He was the one person she was certain knew about her feelings towards Ron. But would she be able to talk to him. He was going through his own turmoil with Ginny. But perhaps that was precisely the reason why he would be the best person to talk to. He would understand.

Thankfully, lunch rolled by without incident, which was mainly because Hermione steered clear of the Great Hall entirely.

Everyone seemed to notice.

Including Harry.

Ron was busy basking in Lavender glory, which left Harry trying his very best to ignore the sound of Ginny's beautiful laughter a few metres down the Gryffindor table from him.

Well before the hour was up, he got up to leave, packing a muffin in a napkin for Hermione. The question was silently asked from those around him as to where he was going. Harry mumbled something about the library to Neville specifically before he headed out of the Great Hall.

Hermione was not in the library. Harry found her in the Gryffindor common room, elbow deep in a large book about something important.

"There you are," Harry said, almost exclaiming at the sight of her. He moved towards her and fell onto the opposite end of the couch on which she was sitting. She was seated facing him, with her feet up, her toes mere inches from his left thigh. "I brought you something," he said, handing her the napkin. "Lemon poppyseed. Your favourite."

She was already overtly emotional and his sentiment merely made it worse. "Thank you," she said softly, taking it from him. "But I'm not really that hungry."

"I guessed as much," he said, putting out his hand. "Give it back then."

She laughed. "No, no. Okay, okay. I'll eat it. I'm going to eat it."

"You're sure?" he asked, smiling widely. "Because I can always eat it."

She shook her head. "Na ah, I said I'm going to eat it."

"Good."

"Thank you, by the way," she mumbled, her heart being pulled in several directions. "I, umm, I'm kind of, umm, tired. Yes, that's it, I'm tired. Aren't you?"

Harry thought about that for a moment. "I suppose. I try not to think about it too much."

"And how exactly are you doing that?"

He shrugged. "I used to use Quidditch as a distraction," he admitted; "but she's right there now. All the time."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"So now I go where she isn't," he continued. "I'll admit that it's made Hogwarts much smaller but a bit more bearable."

Her eyes settled on him. "You'll have to fill me in on the best spots because, right now, it's like he's everywhere."

Harry's eyes glinted with mischief when he looked at her. "Fluffy's old room is rather comfortable."

That garnered quite a laugh from her.

"The dungeon also has its perks," he went on; "but my personal favourite, Miss Granger, is the Chamber of Secrets."

Hermione leaned her head back because she was laughing so hard. "My goodness, you're somewhat twisted, you know that?"

He nodded. "I definitely have my moments."

They descended into comfortable silence. It was quickly becoming a common thing for them.

Eventually, Harry let out a sigh. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

Hermione looked at him. "Excuse me?"

"You can talk to me," he offered. "About whatever is going on with you. I want you to talk to me. I'll listen. I might not say the right thing all the time but I'll definitely try my best."

She took a deep breath. "You're very special, Harry Potter. Thank you."

Harry let those words hang in the air as they drifted into comfortable silence once more.

"We can hide out in the library," Hermione eventually said, filling the silence. "Ron never goes there."

"Nor does Ginny."

"It's perfect."

"At least until this all blows over," Harry added. "There is no way Ron and Lavender are going to last."

"Are you just saying that to cheer me up?"

"Definitely not," he said. "If I were really trying to cheer you up; I probably would have told you about the bit of toothpaste you've had on the tip of your nose all morning."

Hermione gasped, her hand immediately flying to wipe her nose. She stopped only at the sound of his laughter. "Oh. Wow. You are the worst."

"My prerogative."

Hermione relaxed into the couch and released a long breath. All she wanted was for the day to be over, but she found that she was perfectly fine sitting there with Harry and his misplaced humour. He was a welcome distraction and she truly appreciated what he was trying to do. She hoped that she could do the same for him.

It took a great deal of will power to get them to attend their afternoon classes. Like the morning, nothing particularly exciting occurred. Well, to be perfectly honest, one thing did happen: between classes, Harry bumped into Ginny. Literally bumped into her, knocking her set of books to the ground. He quickly apologised, as he bent to retrieve her books. She joined him, and their hands even brushed each other, electrocuting his entire body.

Later, when Harry told Hermione about it in the library; she looked rather amused.

"What?" he asked innocently. There were books spread out on the table between them, and they were trying to be as diligent as possible, given their perilous circumstances.

They weren't in Hermione's usual spot, mainly because Harry insisted they find themselves a new one, which would henceforth be theirs. After rolling her eyes at his notion, they decided on an unoccupied table deep into the library, where they could talk and laugh and be far away from the possibility of witnessing heartbreak.

Hermione bit her bottom lip before she finally spoke. "It's just, well, it just all sounds like something out of a film." She looked a bit worried. "You do know what I mean when I say that, right?"

Harry just nodded, raising an eyebrow in her direction. "You do realise that I did grow up as a Muggle, right?"

"I know that."

"Granted, I was by no means treated like a normal person, but I know quite a few things about the Muggle world."

"Is that why you won't take Muggle Studies?" she found herself asking. This was something they hadn't properly spoken about before.

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that question. His feelings towards the Muggle world were mostly conflicted.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," she said, giving him the option.

"I do," he said quickly. "I mean, sure, there are dark forces out there in this Magical world, wanting to kill me, but this feels like the place I belong. I guess I'm afraid that learning the truth about the Muggle world will change the way I feel about this one, and I don't want that to happen. I didn't know how nice it felt to belong."

Hermione's heart broke for him and she would have said something about it, but she didn't want to embarrass him.

Harry shook his head, as if snapping himself out of a trance. "Anyway, back to our homework," he said, and then exaggerated a gasp. "Never in my however many years did I think I would actually willingly say those words."

Hermione laughed at him, wondering just how severe of an effect the fact that Ginny was with Dean was having on him. This humour of his was a mask, she was sure, and the last thing she wanted was for him to avoid the problem for her sake.

"Do you think the Charms test next week is going to include the things he was saying about his time in Norway with his colleagues from the Ministry?" Harry asked.

Hermione stared at him for a good minute. Who was this boy? "Excuse me?"

He didn't notice the surprised look on her face. "The test for Charms next week, do you think…"

She cut him off. "No, I heard you. It's just, well, you've never been particularly clued up with everything going on in class."

"Umm, okay, I'm going to try not to take offence," he muttered. "I thought I already told you that I've had to find other ways to distract myself. One of those being actually doing this whole school thing you always seem to be raving about."

She was still shocked, even blinking a few times in quick succession.

"And, just so you know, it really isn't as much fun as you make it sound. I'm just saying."

"Then you're definitely not doing it right," she said, having recovered. "And to answer your question: no, I don't think that's in the test. He said it in passing; something to think about."

"Well, if you're not going to study it, then I'm not."

"If those aren't words to live by, I don't know what are, Mr Potter."

He looked at her, slightly amused. "I'm glad you're feeling better," he told her truthfully, wishing he didn't actually have to remind her of her earlier mood. "Or, at least you look like you are."

"I do think I am," she admitted. "I don't know how long it will last. The truth is that we won't actually be able to hide forever, Harry."

"I know that," he said. "Trust me, that much I know. But right now, it just seems like the thing to be doing."

"Okay," Hermione said, nodding her head. "But we should give ourselves a time limit. We're going to have to continue living in this world eventually, with or without them."

He took a deep breath. "Okay."

"Until the end of the week," she offered, putting out her pinkie.

Harry laughed at how Muggle they were suddenly being, but he hooked his little finger with hers anyway. "Until the end of the week."

* * *

When the end of the week rolled around, nothing changed. Harry and Hermione had managed to fall into this comfortable routine that saw the two of them spend more time together than they had in the past five years before. Well, that was how it felt. They'd never spent so much time together, just the two of them.

Without much trying, they started to do things in tandem, always walking and sitting side by side. They talked a lot, about so many different things that they were even starting to sound like one person when they were around other people.

Harry barely saw Ron, and not for a lack of trying. In truth, the only time they communicated was when they happened to be in the Great Hall at the same time and during those precious few minutes before they all went to sleep in their dormitory room.

Harry understood that Ron was in a new relationship, and he was trying his best to be happy for him. But that didn't mean that he wanted to be cast aside. And what about Hermione? It was hard enough for Harry to witness Lavender climbing all over their ginger-haired best friend; Harry could only imagine how all of it was making Hermione feel.

Harry and Hermione didn't talk much about their respective situations. Well, not when they didn't have to, at least. They did begin to discuss a lot of other things, in a very profound way. She had opinions on things that Harry had never even considered. She was opening him up to so much more about their wonderful world.

At first, Harry thought it was just because of the shelves of books surrounding them more often than not, but he quickly learned he was wrong. It was so much more than that. Hermione's world of knowledge was beautifully extensive, and he would do well to learn all he could from her.

They started to have conversations that Harry thought about late at night, his mind wondering about topics that used to be unreachable to him.

Debating with Hermione was always a highlight of his day. She was unafraid to tell him things exactly how she saw them, which was always refreshing. So many people skirted around him, wary of The Boy Who Lived. But not Hermione. She was real and true with him.

A little too much sometimes.

"Well, that's just stupid," she stated, as they descended the steps from the entrance to the library.

Harry was walking next to her. Well, really, they were strolling. In his mind, the reason he was moving so slowly was that he was tired. It had nothing to do with the fact that the two of them would probably have to part ways when they reached the Gryffindor common room.

"That's probably the stupidest thing you've said all week," Hermione added for good measure.

Harry couldn't stop his smile. "Oh really? Even more stupid than what I said about my _Firebolt_ yesterday?"

She shook her head, forcing herself not to smile. "It's a close second, I'll admit. Seriously, nobody wants to fly around on your scar, Harry."

"You say that, but there are some strange people out there. You've read what they write about in _The Daily Prophet_ , haven't you?"

She didn't quantify his comment with a response. "And why you call it a _Firebolt_ , I'll never know."

He stopped walking, right there on the stairs, and turned to look at her. He lifted a mess of hair off his forehead. "Look at it. I mean, that's a _Firebolt_ , Hermione."

She took hold of his wrist and made him drop his arm. "It's more like a lightning bolt, if anything."

"That's exactly what I said. A _Firebolt_."

"You're an idiot."

Harry started to walk again. "You know, Granger, just in this conversation alone, you've called me an idiot once and stupid twice. I'm sensing a theme here, and I don't like it."

She followed right behind him. "So you say… But I know you, Harry Potter."

He laughed even though it was more of the truth than anything she had ever said to him. Out of all the people in his life, she was the one to notice that something wasn't right with him. She seemed to be the only person who had.

"That you do, Hermione Granger; that you do," he mumbled.

At the bottom of the stairs, Hermione stopped quite suddenly, causing Harry to halt and look at her, slight confusion masking his features.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She bit her bottom lip as she thought of how to phrase her thoughts. "Do we have to go straight there?" she found herself asking, trying her best to keep the embarrassment from her tone. Then, before he asked her to explain, she added, ignoring the part of her that felt like she was lying: "Ron might still be there."

Harry didn't want to admit that he had actually wanted to see his redheaded best friend, especially since it was Friday night. He hadn't seen his friend for more than an hour at any one time since their Quidditch match. But the moment Hermione suggested otherwise, he found he was all right with it. "Are you suggesting some kind of detour?" he asked.

"Anything in mind?"

He thought about it for a moment. "I think the best part of walking – or in our case, strolling – is not having a destination."

She kept her eyes on him, seeing something new and true. He was being incredibly open with her, with lots of different things. "Then we'll just walk," she said, taking that first step.

And they did. They walked the halls, marveling at the paintings on the walls, even having a few conversations with people who had died decades before either one of them was born.

They walked and they talked, and the evening melted away into a beautiful blur. Hermione found that she wasn't even the least bit tired. She could have walked with him all night if she could have.

When they did finally end up back in the Gryffindor common room, it was already well into the early morning. The room was completely empty, bar a few open textbooks and unused parchment.

Before they parted to their respective gender dormitories, Hermione met his gaze. "Thank you for tonight, Harry. This entire week, really. I've barely had time to think about the fact that the boy I like is happily snogging someone else."

Harry regarded her for a moment. "You're saying it like we're never going to do this again," he said sadly.

She took a deep breath. "I thought we agreed on the end of the week. Remember the pinkie promise?"

Oh, he remembered. How could he forget? "I know. But it was always my understanding that the end of the week referred to Sunday, and not Friday." He said the words matter-of-factly, leaving his face expressionless.

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "Okay."

"Okay."

"Goodnight, Harry."

He dropped his head a little, sending her on her way up the stairs towards the girls' dormitories. "Goodnight, Hermione."

* * *

By the time Harry made it to Quidditch practice the next morning, Ginny was already there, waiting for her team captain. She made a point to greet him before he began by addressing the massed Gryffindor Quidditch team. The truth was that they all looked about as miserable as he felt, seeing as he was forced to stand in such close proximity to the only Weasley daughter.

Harry started the drills as soon as he could, not giving Ginny any time to say anything more to him remotely unrelated to the sport. It worked out rather fine in that regard but there was still Ron with whom to contend. The Keeper of all keepers. He was still living on a high from their last match, and not only Harry was getting annoyed.

Their practice match was quick. Unlike the rest of the team, Harry couldn't really participate in it, so he pointed out a few things to them, always trying to improve their skills. Harry didn't claim to be an expert in everything Quidditch but it wasn't a fact lost on many that he knew how to win. Just like his father.

When they all went in for lunch, he remained on the field to work on his speed and agility. He liked having the expanse of their state-of-the-art field all to himself.

That was where Hermione found him. It took him a while to spot her standing on the ground some fifty metres below him. When he did, he immediately flew down to her, hovering a metre above her head.

"Are you joining me?" he asked cutely, almost singing. He was smiling like a schoolboy, his eyes glinting with excitement. Quidditch always managed to make him happy; make him forget, even for a little while.

Quidditch had never been Hermione's forte. It was actually scary for her, now having to watch her two best friends fly through the air at such crazy and inhumane speeds, with all sorts of demon balls possibly being sent their way. She had watched Harry face an enchanted broom and a cursed Bludger just in his first two years on the field.

"I don't have a broom," she said in response.

"You can ride my _Firebolt_ ," he said so easily, missing the connotation quite remarkably.

Hermione's cheeks started to burn red and she was mightily glad he was high enough not to notice. Having recovered, she moved the conversation swiftly along. "I'm fine down here, thank you," she said. Then: "Are you ever planning on eating lunch?"

"Eventually," he said, letting out a breath as he dropped a little lower. "I'm not really that hungry. I'd probably just vomit it all up anyway."

"Why?" she asked, sounding worried.

He pulled a distasteful face. "Apparently Ginny has quite a romantic evening planned with Dean tonight."

Hermione let out a breath. "Oh Harry. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

He gave her a reassuring smile, but he didn't respond. That was enough of a sign for her.

"If it makes you feel any better, Ron's leech was all over him when he came in from practice. You'd think he just came back from war," she snidely remarked, which actually made him laugh.

"Oh, but Hermione," he said, injecting humour into his voice. "This is Quidditch. It is war."

She just shook her head, muttering under her breath: "Boys."

"Are you okay though?" Harry asked, feeling like it was something he had to do. All of a sudden, it was his responsibility to make sure that she would always be all right.

She just nodded. "Do you mind if I just lie here in the sun and read?"

"As long as you don't get in the way."

"Harry, I'm on the ground."

His eyes filled with mischief before he said his next words. "Well, you know, that hair of yours tends to take on a life of its own."

Hermione's jaw dropped in utter surprise. "My goodness, Harry Potter! How rude are you?"

He laughed out loud, clearly proud of himself.

Hermione glared at him, suddenly wishing he were closer so she could punch him in the arm. Hard.

"You love me," he said, charmingly, before he shot up and into the air, faster than she could comprehend his words.

 _You love me_. "Hmm," she sounded, dropping to the ground, rather ungracefully. She didn't even care. She used Harry's bag as a makeshift pillow when she lay down on her back. She made sure to put the sun behind her, as she turned to page forty-seven of her most recent dive into Muggle literature. Their take on history fascinated her, particularly when she was able to provide magical explanations to their myths and legends.

Many people at Hogwarts didn't understand her interest in the non-magical world out there. Including Harry. But, unlike the rest, he didn't dismiss her. Even though he wasn't really a Muggle-born; when he was not at Hogwarts, he was a Muggle, like her, and it was a kind of inexplicable bond that they seemed to share. Well, that and the fact that they were both nursing hearts dealing with unrequited feelings.

Harry raced through his own set aside drills for close to an hour before his feet touched down on the green grass near Hermione. He found he quite liked the way she looked, so peaceful and contently basking in the glorious sunlight. She looked precious and untouchable, like a prized gem that had to be left alone.

Hermione's eyes didn't even lift from the pages of her book when he flopped down beside her. He let out a long, tired breath before he also lay down on his back, eventually staring up at the sky like he could discover life's many secrets in the clouds.

Hermione read until she finished the chapter on which she was currently. Once she read that last word, she closed the book and rolled onto her side so she could look at him properly. "You were teasing, right?"

He turned only his head towards the sound of her voice. "Excuse me?"

"What you said about my hair," she reminded him softly, feeling embarrassed. "You were joking, right?"

He regarded her for a moment. She looked worried, or concerned. No. It was something different; something new. She looked vulnerable. It was a look he didn't recognise on her. Hermione Granger was one of the most confident people he had ever come across. But then, he had to remember that she was in fact a teenage girl; one who was being painfully overlooked by the boy she liked.

"Right?" she added, prompting him to respond.

Harry had to pick his words carefully. "Of course," he replied quickly. "I like your hair. I think it looks nice, even in the mornings."

Her eyes widened. "How do you know what my hair looks like in the morning?"

He smiled mischievously. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Harry."

He too rolled onto his side to look at her properly. "You have to know, Hermione, that you are one of the most beautiful witches in this place. And if you don't know that, believe me when I tell you. You're kind and smart and perfect. And you even have nice skin."

She frowned. "My skin?"

"Of course, out of all of that, that's the part you would comment on," he muttered, clearly amused. "And yes, your skin. It's good skin." He had to resist the urge to run the back of his fingers over the skin of her cheek, as if he could possibly prove his words to her. He thought it would be inappropriate even though she was close enough to touch.

"Okay then," she said, blinking a few times. "Umm, thanks."

"Gosh," he sounded, shaking his head. "You really don't have to make it so awkward. Can't I just pay my best friend a compliment without it getting weird?"

Hermione laughed lightly. "You can. And I really do mean it. Thank you, Harry." She reached her hand out and gently touched his chest. "I really do appreciate it. I'm sorry I'm even asking. I'm definitely not usually like this."

"I know."

"Who knew I was such a girl?" she asked self-deprecatingly, even rolling her eyes.

"I did," he admitted. "That Yule Ball was an eye opener in one too many ways, for me at least."

She missed what he was trying to say. Clearly, from her question. "How so?"

"Well," he began easily. "When you emerged on the stairs in your blue dress, it was as if you were this entirely different person; this breathtakingly beautiful person, who we had spent every day sitting next to. It baffled me, and still does, how we could have missed it until that point. I suppose that was the moment everything changed."

She didn't comment, choosing rather to allow him to continue. She just watched him in silence, wondering if he fully understood exactly what he was saying.

"I suppose that might be when you realised you like Ron," Harry continued. "And I definitely realised that all I wanted was for you to be happy, even if it was with Krum."

She met his gaze. "Because you love me." It was a statement, not a question.

Harry blinked a few times. It was quite a scary word when he wasn't saying it, out there in the open, but he was willing to embrace it. "Exactly."

With that, Hermione rolled back onto her back and retrieved her book. "Good," she concluded, as if it were an afterthought. She opened the book to the newest chapter and began to read.

Harry also rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. The sun was falling behind them, slowly beginning to cast the shadow of the castle over their legs.

As soon as the shadow had darkened her pages, Hermione decided it was probably time to head back inside. She was also beginning to feel the chill, now that the sun was gone. When she turned her head to look at the boy lying next to her, she found him sleeping rather peacefully.

She turned fully back onto her side to look at him properly. It was actually quite a relief for her to see that he was actually able to sleep. She, herself, found it quite difficult at times but that was mainly because she was full of worry, over so many different things. She was worried about her parents, about her schoolwork and about her current perilous position in terms of her feelings for Ronald Weasley.

She was also worried about the boy in front of her. She knew that he believed he was what stood between the world and eternal damnation. Voldemort was back and he was planning something terrible. Harry could feel it and Dumbledore had him convinced that it was up to him to save them all.

As she watched him, his breath even and undisturbed; she realised that she didn't actually want to wake him up. How could she? It was almost a crime even to consider it.

Well, maybe you should stop staring at him then, she thought to herself. He could wake up, and then what? What would he think? Gosh, what was she thinking?

As if he could hear her racing thoughts, his eyes snapped open. "Do you have to think so loudly?" he muttered.

Hermione tried her best to keep herself from laughing but she couldn't hold it in. She had to cover her mouth with her left hand.

He looked at her. "Seriously?"

"I'm sorry," she mumbled through her fingers.

Slowly, painfully, he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his hands. "You want to go in, don't you?"

"What are you; some kind of mind reader?" she asked, teasingly dismissive, as she sat up as well.

"Just yours."

She gave him a look. "We've definitely been spending too much time together."

That made him laugh out loud. "Honestly, Hermione, what would you do without me?"

The truth was that Hermione had never thought about what her life would be like if she didn't know Harry Potter. The first thing that came to mind was that she probably wouldn't have faced possibly losing her best friend as many times as she had. She, herself, also probably wouldn't have been put in dangerous positions either.

Actually, no. That wasn't true. Before she and Harry were ever friends, she had faced death in the form of a mountain troll. And her boys had saved.

She and Harry and Ron were destined for something much greater. She had to know that.

"Come on," Harry eventually said, realising no response was coming.

She watched as he rose to his feet and stretched his arms right up into the air. As if on cue, he dropped his hands to her as she lifted hers to him, and he helped her to her feet.

They stood face to face, a few centimetres between them. She could feel his breath on the tip of her nose. It was on the border between ticklish and pleasant. Having him this close felt comfortable and safe, which wasn't entirely surprising given the week through which they had just managed to get.

Harry looked her in the eye, tilting his head forward. She looked thoughtful and at ease, which made him smile.

Hermione cleared her throat, taking a well-disguised step back. "How are you feeling about tonight?" she felt she had to ask.

His eyes darkened and his smile disappeared, as he remembered Ginny and Dean. "Let's just say that I'm mightily glad that the end of the week is actually on Sunday."


	2. Chapter 2

II

Sunday evening saw Harry and Hermione the only two Gryffindor students not actually stressing over finishing their homework. It wasn't that they were actively wanting to get in trouble; it was that they were the only two actually done.

It was unusual for Harry to be on the other side of the homework spectrum with Hermione, looking in at the frantic scribbling of so many of their classmates.

The previous night, while Ginny went out on her romantic evening with Dean Thomas and Ron bathed himself in everything that was Lavender Brown; Harry and Hermione had worked at their spot in the library. They did it mainly to keep themselves occupied, so as not to drift towards masochistic thoughts.

They had made it interesting by sneaking in a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. They made a pact that they would finish the entire box, no matter what. They were not allowed to look at which one they picked, nor were they allowed to spit them out.

Gosh, anything to make the task of doing homework remotely interesting.

On top of working through all of their homework, they also studied for their upcoming tests, questioning each other on the content as the night turned into morning.

Harry fell asleep first, right there on the table. He dropped his head for a moment and that was it. After getting over how adorable it all was, Hermione woke him and they made their now routine walk back to the Gryffindor common room.

Maybe then they deserved an early Sunday night, if only to make up for the late nights of Friday and Saturday. Which was what Hermione told Harry as they sat together on a couch in the Gryffindor common room. She whispered it, actually, because they were surrounded by students scribbling rather emphatically, merely trying to get something, anything, written down before class began in the morning.

"You're right," Harry agreed, yawning for good measure. He turned to look at her. "I don't want today to end though," he admitted softly.

"And why is that?"

Harry looked down at his hands in his lap, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "Well, see, we, umm, we agreed on the end of the week, and today, well, today is the end of the week. And I suppose I'm wary of, umm, possibly having to face the whole," he dropped his voice even lower; "Ginny thing on my own."

Hermione, absently and affectionately, put a hand over both of his. He was warm to the touch, his fingers continually fidgeting in his embarrassment. "I never said I would leave you to deal with it on your own, Harry," she said soothingly. "All I'm saying is that we just can't hide anymore."

Harry let out a relieved breath but he didn't smile. "What exactly does that mean?" he asked her, his gaze burning into her skin.

She took her hand back to tuck some loose hair behind her ear. "I'm not entirely sure, to be honest."

That made him smile. "Will you let me know when you figure it out? And I say 'when,' not 'if,' because you'll always be the one to figure it out."

"Putting a lot of pressure on me, are you, Harry?"

"Trying to turn you into a diamond," he said innocently.

His analogy confused her for a moment, before she smiled. "Well, you'll definitely be the first person I tell if or when I figure it out."

"When, Hermione. When."

They sat in comfortable silence for about a minute before Harry rose to his feet and then helped her to hers. They stood for a moment, taking in the sound of racing quills on parchment, the exaggerated sighs and the rotten mumbling. It was a feeling Harry didn't miss at all.

"Shall we?" Harry eventually offered.

Hermione just nodded, as she took the first step towards the dormitories.

Harry said a quick goodnight to the boys, particularly Ron, who made a huge show of begging Harry for his homework. He knew it was no use asking Hermione. Years of experience had taught him how stingy the girl actually could be with this kind of thing.

Harry decided to humour him. "If you copy mine," he said, mischief shining in his tired eyes; "then we'll both fail."

That got quite a laugh out of the room. Well, enough to allow Harry and Hermione to make an unnoticed exit. They bid each other goodnight on the stairs, like they usually did, before they headed their separate ways.

Harry was on autopilot as he went through the motions of getting ready for bed. When he finally climbed under the covers, his entire body relaxed. But his mind was still on overdrive.

It took Harry close to an hour to stop thinking about Hermione and Ron, and then to stop thinking about Ron and Lavender, and then to stop thinking about Ginny and Dean and eventually to stop thinking about Hermione and himself. His mind just wouldn't let up. It was still spinning when the first of the boys started dribbling in.

It was Ron's arrival that Harry noticed the most. The boy looked frazzled, with his hair almost as messy as Harry's usually was. Who knew homework could be so defeating?

Ron noticed that Harry was still awake. "Can't sleep?" he asked, moving to stand in between his bed and Harry's.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows before he responded. "Not a wink," he said, shaking his head. "It's weird, though, because I'm actually dead tired."

"Probably all that time you've been spending with Hermione."

It was a remark that made Harry frown. "What's that supposed to mean?" he had to ask, suddenly feeling defensive.

Ron took an involuntary step back, sensing maybe that he was poking the lion's den. "Nothing. All I'm saying it that you two have been spending a lot of time together."

Harry sat up fully. "So?" he questioned rather harshly. "Have you ever thought about why that must be?"

Ron swallowed. He was definitely not about to voice his real thoughts. There was no way his two best friends suddenly fancied each other. "I don't know," he said instead.

"Well, then you're more self-absorbed than I thought," Harry said, spite seeping into his tone. "What do you think we're supposed to do when our best friend suddenly forgets that we exist?"

Ron stared at him for a long time, the entire room falling away. "I knew it," he said suddenly, his own anger rising to the surface. "You so do have a problem with Lavender. I was convinced I was imagining it."

"I don't have a problem with Lavender," Harry said, shifting and dropping his feet to the ground before standing. "What I have a problem with is the way you've been acting since she came into the picture. We barely see you, Ron. You keep going like this, we're not going to be around when you two end."

Ron squared up to his male best friend, refusing to back down. "Oh, so that's what all this is about, isn't it? You want us to end, don't you? What? Are you seriously that jealous?"

Harry opened his mouth to say something but closed it in sheer disbelief. He shook his head, not as an answer but in more disapproval. Even disappointment. "Wow," he found himself saying. "Those are definitely words I wasn't expecting to hear."

"Can't handle the truth, can you, Harry?"

For a moment, Harry didn't recognise the boy standing in front of him. It was hard for him to admit but he hated that there was a small part of him that knew Ron was right, but for all the wrong reasons. He was definitely jealous of something but it was still unclear to him just of what that was.

"Maybe I can't," Harry said, referring to the fact that he couldn't quite come to terms with the fact that Ginny was with Dean and not with him; "but neither can you."

And that was all he would say. He turned and climbed back into bed, just managing to ignore the sound of Ron cursing under his breath or the prying looks of the other boys. All this extra drama was definitely not what he needed.

It took Harry another fifteen minutes to fall asleep. It was a troubled night, and an even inferior morning. He was angry with Ron, which made the morning all the more worse because the redheaded boy was everywhere. Gosh, was this how Hermione felt? Ronald Weasley was so difficult to avoid. And he was a total and utter goofball, which made staying mad at him that much harder.

But then again, Ron also seemed to be angry with Harry, so they both weren't talking to each other. Even so, they sat opposite each other in the Great Hall, neither of them uttering a single word.

Not even when Hermione arrived. All Ron did was grunt a single greeting and Harry just shook his head at her, his silent words translating to her that he would tell her all about it later.

Harry got up to leave first, excusing himself politely. Hermione waited a few minutes before she left as well. She found Harry sitting in a corridor, his eyes unfocused and his hair more disheveled than usual.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, as she came to a stop right in front of him.

Harry took a moment to gather himself before he looked up at her. "Ron and I, we had a fight."

"Okay," she said easily. "But you and Ron always fight. What's so different about this time?"

He swallowed. "Well, you may have come up," he managed to say, visibly cringing at his own words.

"Excuse me?"

So he proceeded to explain the fight in its entirety. There was no use in leaving anything out. While he spoke, Hermione moved to sit down beside him and listen. When he was done, she didn't saying anything for a while.

"But what does that mean?" she eventually asked.

"I don't know," Harry responded mildly. He hadn't actually allowed himself to think about it properly. He might have been too afraid of the answers he would probably come to.

"Do you think he's the one who's jealous?" she found herself asking.

"Of who?"

"Of us, silly," she said, softly slapping his thigh.

"But why?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "I don't actually know. It's not like he's ever been weird about how close we are before. Maybe he's just seeing something that we're not."

"That may be true."

"Something strange is brewing here, Harry, and I don't know if I like it."

He looked at her. "Does that mean you want to stop all this hanging out?"

Her response came quickly. "No! Of course not. I could never survive this place without you. Don't be stupid."

He laughed lightly. "You've really got to stop calling me stupid. I'm starting to feel conscious of it."

She just smiled at him, as she rose to her feet. "Okay, I've got to get to class. It's quite a walk, if you must know. You're lucky you've never had to make the treacherous journey."

"Because I'm the genius who doesn't take Muggle Studies."

"If that's what you want to call it."

He glared at her.

"Anyway, well, I really should go," she said, even though she didn't move. "Gosh, I wish I could Apparate there."

Harry also rose to his feet. "Break the rules, Hermione Granger, I dare you."

She shook her head, grinning at him. "Such a terrible influence. I'll see you in Herbology."

* * *

Like the Monday before, the day went extremely slowly. None of the Golden Trio was particularly chatty, which was a fact not lost on the rest of their Gryffindor class. Their friend, Neville Longbottom, even went as far as to ask Harry if everything was okay, to which the famous wizard responded with a reassuring yet forced smile and a curt nod of his head.

It was at dinner that night that things really came to a head. As usual, Harry and Hermione sat on one side of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, with Ron sitting in his normal place opposite them. No words were passing between Harry and Ron, and Hermione wasn't about to utter a word to either one of them, in case she managed to set the other one off. The last thing any of them needed at this point was for the entire Hall to witness a blow-up of what she believed would be of epic proportions.

It was Dean who pointed out that the trio was being awfully quiet, which made Harry clench his fists in sudden irritation. Without thinking, Hermione put her hand over Harry's closest fist to keep him calm. Of course, Ron couldn't know of Harry's feelings towards Dean, so he read the fact that their hands were touching to mean something deeply affectionate. Which, in all intents and purposes, it probably was.

"I knew it," Ron said, his mouth full of Cottage Pie.

Both Harry and Hermione looked at him. "You knew what?" they asked in unison, their wavelengths now so in sync that it was almost creepy.

Ron gestured towards their hands, which made Hermione snatch hers back and hide it under the table. "Have you guys started a thing?" Ron asked softly. He looked genuinely curious, not even the least bit angry like the night before. It seemed as though he had already accepted the possibility of the positive answer to his question.

Harry's eyes widened in utter shock. Hermione's breath caught; she was so surprised by his preposterous deduction.

"What?" Harry asked, having recovered first.

Ron looked from wizard to witch, and then back to wizard, trying to decipher their facial expressions. "I mean, is that why you guys have been acting so weird? Don't you know how to tell me?"

Hermione shook her head fleetingly, as if she was trying to wake up from a terrible nightmare. She needed Ron to stop talking. Right this instant. "Why do you think that?" she found herself asking instead, her curiosity overpowering her need to protect herself from potential, painful heartbreak.

"Well," Ron said, visibly relaxing; "the two of you are always having hushed conversations, as if you're hiding something. And you never usually hide things from me. I guess now I know that it really must not have anything to do with Lavender."

Hermione took a deep, calming breath. "But Ron," she said; "Harry and I are not together."

Ron frowned. "You're not?"

"We're definitely not," Harry clarified, trying his best not to show just how uncomfortable he felt with the fact that Ron had even brought up such an idea. He and Hermione. Together. Surely Ron had to know how unlikely that was.

But then again, Ron couldn't figure out that Hermione liked him so Harry couldn't be all that surprised. That was the truth of it though: Hermione liked Ron, and Harry liked Ginny. That was it. Nothing else. Nothing more.

Ron seemed to think about their responses for a moment. "Oh," he sounded thoughtfully. "Then why all the strangeness about Lavender? Seriously. And why all the hand holding? What is going on?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a worried look, in which an entire conversation occurred. This was definitely not the time to tell the truth. When – no, _if_ – Hermione ever told Ron how she felt, it would have to be just the two of them.

"Guys," Ron prompted.

Hermione, feeling uncharacteristically panicked, cleared her throat before the words came tumbling out: "Harry has a crush on Lavender!"

The shock that Harry felt literally stopped his heart and robbed his lungs of air. He turned to look at Hermione, his mouth hanging open in shock. "What?"

Ron reiterated that, food flying out of his mouth. "What?"

Hermione did not look at Harry, mainly because she couldn't bring herself to see his facial expression. "Umm."

Ron looked at Harry. "Mate, is she being serious?"

Harry couldn't even answer. Denying it like he desperately wanted to do would only make Hermione a liar and Ron would wonder what it was they were covering up.

Ron looked hurt, in all honesty. "Harry?"

Harry swallowed, figuring out that there was really only one way out of this mess. "Not exactly," he admitted. "I've always thought that she was cool. It, umm, would have been nice to get to know her a bit better, like as just a friend though." He kept his tone even, matching it with his breathing. "I'll admit that I was a little shocked when you two got together but I believe I'm fine with it now. Like, totally fine. I'm sorry I've been acting weird. It was just difficult to be around you for a little while, and Hermione has been keeping me company while I dealt with it. But I'm totally over it now. Honest."

Where he had managed to come up with that explanation, he had no idea. He and Hermione were going to have some serious words when they were alone.

After a while, Ron's face broke out into a wide, disbelieving smile. "Blimey. Never thought I'd ever hear that," he marveled. "I got the girl, instead of Harry Potter." There went his inferiority complex again, making Harry want to roll his eyes.

Ron looked at Hermione. "Can you believe this guy? Wow. Hah, and can you believe I thought the two of you were together?"

Harry nodded his head once, unsure of how to proceed. "Umm, so we're okay?"

"As long as you don't try to steal my girlfriend," Ron said, only half jokingly.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry said, and it was the truth. "And please don't tell anyone. I'm already embarrassed enough about it."

Ron exaggerated a sigh. "Fine."

After she finished with her dinner, Hermione hurried on her way, hoping to evade Harry. Unfortunately for her, he was a fast runner, and he was not going to allow her to disappear into the girls' dormitories before he managed to have a word with her.

When he caught up to her, he took hold of her arm to stop her. "Hermione?"

"Oh, hey, Harry," she said, feigning innocence.

He gave her a look of disapproval. "Where are you off to so quickly?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, you know, nowhere in particular. Why? Did you need something from me?"

He cleared his throat. "Stop with that cute innocent face of yours," he told her hotly. "You know _exactly_ what you did."

She blinked a few times. Cute? "I know not of what you speak."

"Real classy, Granger," he muttered. "Why don't you tell me what exactly you thought you were doing telling Ron that I have the hots for his girl?"

She marvelled at him for a moment, slightly in awe of his Muggle phrasing.

He was hit by a sudden urge to shake her, if only to wipe the beautifully endearing look off her face. "Hermione?"

She snapped back to the reality of the boy in front of her. From the look on his face, she could tell he wanted answers. "I wasn't."

"You weren't what?"

"I wasn't thinking, okay?" she explained hurriedly. "I panicked. It was the first plausible explanation that came to mind. It was in the moment. I'm really sorry."

"You're sorry," he asked, his voice rising. "You're sorry? That's it? That's all you have to say? Seriously, Hermione? Now Ron thinks I ever once liked," his voice dropped right down to a whisper; "Lavender Brown."

Hermione took an involuntary step back, but her curiosity at his sudden change in stance piqued her interest. "What's so wrong with that?"

Harry took a breath, frowning. "What's so wrong with what?"

"Liking Lavender?"

"What kind of question is that?"

She was persistent. "No, really, Harry, what is so wrong with that? You're making it sound like such an unthinkable thing to like Lavender. I want to know why."

Harry stood silently for a confused moment. "Because."

"Because what?"

He huffed. "Just because, Hermione. Gosh. Why is it so important?"

"I just want to know," she continued to question. "Why, Harry?"

He huffed again, even stomping his foot in mild frustration. "Because."

"Because what?"

"Because she's not you," he blurted out, just wanting to stop her persistent questioning.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but she closed it quite suddenly, pressing her lips together in a thin line.

Harry felt very self-conscious all of a sudden. Why had he said that? "Umm, what I mean is, well, in all honesty, there isn't even a world where I would pick Lavender over you." Wait. That wasn't any better. "And the fact that Ron even believes that to be true is an insult to me, not only you." Even worse.

"Harry?" Hermione queried.

"No," he said strongly, running with his thoughts. "He needs to open his eyes. He's an idiot. Given a choice, between you and Lavender – between you and anyone for that matter – I would pick you. No question about it." He said the words and then he stopped dead; the shock of their meaning stunning him to sudden silence. Was that true? How much did he mean it? What was he thinking? "I mean, umm, if I were Ron, of course," he added for good measure.

She swallowed. "Of course."

Harry took a step back, suddenly realising just how close to her he was actually standing. His body felt slightly electrified and he needed the space to cool down. "Well, that's all I had to say. You can continue on your way to your nowhere in particular now."

Hermione just nodded her head. "Okay, right, umm, goodnight then."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

* * *

As much as he tried, Harry did not get much sleep that night. As he lay in bed, he kept replaying his conversation with Hermione over and over in his head. The words he had said had been the truth, which he found particularly alarming. Well, his words had been a version of the truth. That's what they had to be.

Harry wasn't the type of boy to compare girls, but the truth really was that nearly every girl was inferior to Hermione, and Harry had practically told Hermione the truth of that.

What really bothered him though was that, all the while he was speaking to Hermione; he hadn't thought of Ginny. How had that happened? Why had that happened? And why had Hermione been so interested in hearing why liking Lavender was such an outrageous idea to him?

The many questions kept him tossing and turning until he eventually gave up. He climbed out of bed well before the sun came up. He went down to the Gryffindor common room and sat down on the couch opposite the embers of the fire, shifting until he got comfortable. Merely staring into the familiar orange light brought back memories of Sirius Black. Even on this day, the loss of Harry's godfather still hurt, reverberating through his body. Harry wondered if it would ever stop.

Hermione found Harry first, being the earliest rising Gryffindor student. He was asleep on the couch, looking oddly bothered. Even in his sleep, the boy wasn't at peace. His eyelashes were fluttering and his bottom lip was quivering.

She shook him awake as gently as she could. When he came to and his eyes focused on her; he smiled lopsidedly. "Good morning," he mumbled, sitting up and stretching.

"How long have you been out here?" she asked curiously.

Harry had a look around, taking in his surroundings. It was almost a surprise to him that he wasn't in his own bed. "Oh, right," he said, laughing lightly. "Umm, not that long, I don't think."

She read the look on his face. "You are such a liar. Tell me what's going on with you."

He sighed. "I guess I'm just feeling all sorts of emotions right now. I want them to go away. Why won't they just go away?"

To comfort him, Hermione ran a hand through his mess of black hair several times. Her fingers eventually rested on the back of his neck, cool against his skin. It was tempting to pull him towards her and hug his head against her abdomen. She didn't. "Is this about Ginny?" she asked instead.

"Partly," he admitted. "Everything just feels very complicated all of a sudden. Why can't we go back to Saturday night's antics? All I had to worry about was not picking the earwax flavour."

That made her laugh. She eventually took her hand back and dropped it to her side.

"Now I have to worry about Ron thinking that I'm about to steal his girl, about my own sanity, about your happiness and whether or not Dean and Ginny are casting secretive glances each other's way during study hall.

"And those are only the personal worries. There's also school, and all these tests and assignments and spontaneous quizzes. Quidditch. Lest we forget the fact that Voldemort is still out there, probably coming up with ways to kill me. There's also the fact that I'm alone in this world. I have no family. I have no one and, when all this is over, if it ever will be, I'll probably still be alone. Or dead."

Hermione waited a few moments after he was done with his tirade to gather her own thoughts. There was definitely no point in rushing this conversation. "Well those really are a lot of worries," she said, trying to buy herself some time.

Harry appreciated her attempt at humour but he really wasn't in the mood, which was clearly evident by his continued blank expression.

"I could tell you a few things," Hermione said. "But what I think you need to know right now is that you'll never be alone. True, you might not have blood relatives anymore, but you've got us, Harry, and I think that counts for something. The Weasleys are your family. Gryffindor is your family. Professor Dumbledore is your family. Gosh, _I'm_ your family.

"And so what if Voldemort comes? He's come before and you're still here. I mean, what is so great about him anyway? We can defeat him. In the end, I believe we can do it. Together, we can do anything."

"All this positivity of yours is really throwing me off, Hermione," he said, looking at her with a slightly amused expression. "Stop it."

She risked a smile. "Maybe I'm just trying to make up for what happened last night."

"Oh, you mean your totally throwing me under the bus?"

She bit her bottom lip, unable to gauge if he was actually still angry about it. "I thought about it, and I think it's a good thing. At least for me."

Harry slowly rose to his feet, fighting the dizzy feeling. "And why exactly do you think that?" he asked, his tone slipping dangerously close to seductive.

In spite of herself, she took a step back to give him some standing space. Well, that was what she told herself. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that having him so close brought about a strange and inviting tingling in the pit of her stomach. He also smelt nice, which hit her like a wave. It was all a bit intoxicating.

Harry raised an eyebrow in anticipation.

"Well, my thinking is that maybe, now that Ron believes you're uncomfortable around him and Lavender, then he'll ask her to take the groping down a notch. Which will not only be more bearable for me, but probably for every student in the castle."

"And teacher," Harry added. "I swear Flitwick is still having nightmares about what we witnessed on Thursday."

Hermione visibly cringed at the memory. "Gosh, please don't remind me. And it's _Professor_ Flitwick, Harry."

He laughed lightly, before he descended into subdued silence. "I should probably go get ready," he said. "At some point, I have to face the fact that this day is going to happen, with or without me, and whether I like it or not."

"That's the spirit."

He laughed once more before. "I'll see you at breakfast."

* * *

Harry's day went considerably better than he thought it would. He didn't miss the fact that Ron did seem rather reserved around him just as Hermione had predicted. Harry also didn't miss the fact that Hermione went out of her way to distract him from the situation that was his life.

Harry and Hermione spent the evening working in the library, with Ron, and without Lavender. It was a welcome familiarity that Harry wouldn't allow himself to take for granted ever again. There was just something about just being the three of them that Harry knew nothing else could come close to. He wouldn't be able to explain it to anyone who asked.

Ron headed to bed as soon as he had written the last word of his Transfiguration essay on safety in magic, leaving Harry and Hermione to proofread each other's work. To say that Harry's grades had improved would have been an understatement. He had managed to rise an entire percentile just in the time they had been back at school; just in the time that he had known about Ginny and Dean Thomas.

"Harry, this is really good," Hermione eventually said, her voice rising in pitch.

He gave her a look. "Well, you don't have to sound so surprised about it," he said pointedly.

She laughed lightly. "Sorry. But I really am," she admitted. "Mind you, I've read your work before, but nothing like this. Is this something you feel strongly about?"

He frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Safety," she said. "You write about how important it is to ensure that witches and wizards practice magic in a safe way. Why is that so important to you?"

"Isn't that supposed to be important to everyone?" he asked, trying to play it down.

She kept her eyes on him, waiting for an answer.

He let out a long breath, realising quite quickly that she wasn't going to give him an out. "Magic is dangerous," he said softly. "I've seen it used for some terrible things, Hermione. I think that the magical world needs to make young witches and wizards more aware of the dangers of bad practice. People die." His voice caught, which made him look down at his hands while he composed himself. "All the time. People die."

Hermione could tell that he was thinking about the long list of names of people they had lost. Well, _he_ had lost. His parents, Cedric, Sirius… He undoubtedly believed that there would be more, and the saddest part was that he probably wasn't wrong. When the time did come for the final battle with Voldemort, more people would die; the innocent and the not so innocent. Hermione was certain of it.

"I suppose I do feel quite strongly about it," he finally admitted. "At times, I don't think Hogwarts does enough to promote safe magic. And I fully accept that I might be partly to blame for that, given the rollercoaster of five years we've had, but I still think it's important. I've seen enough and been through enough to know that the power in my wand; the power in me, can be deadly."

She watched his face as he spoke, his voice getting smaller and smaller. She hated that he seemed almost afraid of himself. "But Harry, it's not the power that's deadly; it's what is done with it. I'm certain that you are capable of far more than either of us know, but you use your power for good. All you've ever tried to do is protect us, and protect yourself. You want to live and you use your magic, deadly or not, with good intentions, which is so much more than anyone could possibly say for Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

He took a deep breath. "The only way to ensure our safety, Hermione, is to kill Voldemort once and for all. I don't want any more people to have to die because of me."

Hermione reached across the table and took hold of one of his fidgeting hands. There wasn't much she could say to relieve his guilt, mainly because he was definitely more stubborn than she was. "Then that's what we'll do," she said, taking back her hand. "I don't know how and I don't know when but we will defeat him and we will save the Wizarding World."

Harry risked a smile. "There were a lot of 'I don't knows' in that sentence," he pointed out. "So very unlike you."

"Oh hush."

He laughed, raking a hand through his raven hair. His fingers came to rest on the back of his neck like they usually did. "Yours is good too, by the way," he said, passing over her essay. "But I'm sure you already knew that."

She pulled out her tongue at him.

"I did find some spelling errors though," he said, leaning forward. "In the fifth line. It seems that you misspelt ever word in the first sentence there."

Her eyes searched her written words. "I don't see anything."

"It's right there," he said, reaching over to point to a place on the parchment. "It should read, 'Harry Potter is so hot, I want to have his babies,' but you spelt it all wrong."

Hermione laughed out loud. "You're the worst."

He smirked, seemingly quite proud of himself. "That I am. I'll own it. But really, your piece is totally amazing. I completely agree with your take on the rules of transfiguration. I almost wished you had expanded on it. Definitely would have been interesting to see more on the subject."

She just stared at him. She had to blink a few times to make sure she was seeing who she was seeing. This was Harry Potter. He was supposed to be the boy who had spent years complaining about schoolwork; the boy who hadn't put much stock in his studies. But Hermione was now seeing a very different Harry Potter.

Harry shrunk into himself a little, at the way she was looking at him. "What?" he asked innocently.

Hermione wasn't sure why she blushed, having been caught staring so blatantly. "I don't know," she began. "I suppose I just never thought I would ever be able to have this kind of conversation with you," she admitted.

"What?" he asked, his mouth turning into a lopsided grin. "An educated one?"

She just smiled. "You know that's not what I mean. It's just that we've been doing this whole school thing for some years now and you've never been particularly interested in what I have to say about books and magic and all those kinds of things."

He thought about that for a moment before he responded. "I definitely have been interested," he assured her. "But you always bring up things at the worst of times. It's a problem."

"Oh what lies!"

He laughed. "I do listen to you, Hermione. Well, I try to, but it's only recently that I've started to feel like I have something to add to the conversation. I've never been anywhere near the amount of invested in what we do here as you, which makes keeping up with you rather difficult.

"It's kind of foreboding having this beautiful, bright witch talking _at_ you about things you've never heard of, and then you're expected to reply even semi-intelligently. I might be Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, but even I'm not that talented."

Hermione had to smile, mainly because there really was no other response for her. Firstly, he called her beautiful. Beautiful. And he was so self-deprecating that it almost physically hurt.

"Are you ready to go to bed?" Harry eventually asked. "I mean, now that the essays are done? I've barely recovered from the weekend's exploits."

"You're saying that as if we snuck out and got completely wasted on the streets of Downtown London."

He raised an eyebrow at her analogy.

"I should probably stop watching Muggle television when I go home," she said, sighing.

"Please don't. I love it when you talk Muggle to me." He almost sang his words, sliding in extreme connotation that made her laugh.

"You're probably the only person around here who even understands," she muttered. "Even the people responsible for Muggle Studies know next to nothing. Burbage is - "

He groaned, cutting her off before she spiraled into one of her many complaints regarding Hogwarts' Muggle Studies curriculum. "Please, no. Don't even get started on that. It is way too early in the day. You can write another strongly worded letter to the Ministry tomorrow, if you so wish. Let's go to bed."

Hermione exaggerated a pout. "So much for listening to me," she mumbled, folding her arms over her chest.

Harry let out a long, tired breath before he rose to his feet. He stepped out from behind the table and moved towards her. Without another word, he put out his hand for her to take.

Hermione's initial hesitation had very little to do with the act of actually taking hold of Harry's hand; it was more to do with what it would feel like. When it came to hands, she was usually the one to initiate the contact. Things were definitely changing.

But she took hold of his hand nonetheless, that same tingling erupting in the pit of her stomach. She didn't allow herself to dwell on what that could possibly mean.

Harry released her hand as they exited the library, not that he particularly wanted to, but he did have to hold open the door for her to go through. They walked slowly, without any real purpose, to prolong the inevitable separation when they reached their destination. It was a calming walk, exactly what they needed before bed.

They bid each other goodnight on the stairs, as had become a recent tradition for them. Hermione wished him sweet dreams which, coming from her, Harry was certain he would have.

And he did.

* * *

Quite incredibly, the week turned into any other week. For the most part, Harry actually preferred it when Ron was occupied because, when he wasn't, he was bound to talk endlessly about Lavender. Or worse, Ginny.

To say that Ron wasn't a fan of having to witness his little sister and Dean Thomas exchange niceties was quite the understatement. He wanted to be nowhere near them, but that didn't deter him from complaining mercilessly about how strange he found all of it. To anybody who would listen.

Both Harry and Hermione agreed that it was incredibly distracting and annoying. Maybe it was best to leave him to Lavender while he was still wrapping his head around the whole Ginny and Dean thing. Hermione just hoped it would happen sooner rather than later because she sometimes found herself questioning her own feelings, which was strange for her. Hermione was normally very confident in her ways, a knower of many things. She hated to admit that the feelings department was new and unchartered territory for her.

Harry's own situation with Ginny wasn't exactly something he wanted to face either. Hermione didn't ask him about it too often, although she was mightily curious. She just wasn't sure why that was exactly.

"Well, that was interesting," Harry said, as he slipped in beside Hermione at the dinner table in the Great Hall that Thursday evening.

"Hi to you too," Hermione said, nudging him slightly with her elbow. "And what was interesting?" she asked, dishing some mashed potatoes onto her plate. Without asking, she also dished some for Harry. It was just the most natural thing to do, as she waited for him to tell his story.

Harry started to pour pumpkin juice for the both of them. "Ginny and I just had a conversation. Like, an actual proper conversation that involved no outrageous mumbling or hot sweats. And had no 'oh my goodness, Harry, you're such an idiot' moments, which is always an improvement."

While Hermione thought about that new piece of information, she dished gravy for the both of them, and only peas for herself. She knew he detested the little green spheres. "Oh really? What about?"

Harry sighed. "Well, therein lies the problem. It was about Quidditch."

"Okay. Not the worst subject around," she tried to reassure him even though there was a part of her was a little relieved by it. "But how was it really? Was there really no awkwardness?"

Harry thought about that for a moment, replaying the conversation in his mind. "Not really. At least I don't think so. It was actually all right, to be honest. I think I've reached a point where I'm okay with all of it now or something. At least for the time being."

"Okay with what?"

"The situation. I mean, clearly she doesn't reciprocate my feelings."

"Harry, she doesn't even know about your feelings."

"And maybe it's better that way," he found himself saying. "For right now, at least."

Hermione had to squash the part of her that felt slightly giddy at the sound of his words. She felt guilty about it, and even more confused by it. What was happening? Why was it happening?

"Which piece do you want?" Harry asked.

She snapped back to reality. "Excuse me?"

He gave her a questioning look. "Umm, I asked what piece do you want," he repeated, referring to the plate of juicy steaks in front of them.

"Oh, right, umm… any is fine, thank you."

Harry still had questions in his eyes as he dished for the both of them. He ended up asking one of the more pertinent ones. "Where is Ron, by the way?"

She used her head to gesture to a spot further down the table. "Where else would he be?"

Harry looked to where Hermione was indicating. Ron was sitting with Lavender and the Patil sisters, laughing at something one of them said. "Since when did that happen?" he asked, sounding slightly alarmed. "He's never not sat with us before."

"Well," she had to point out; "there was that time during the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

Harry didn't need any reminding. He didn't respond as he started to eat. He couldn't help but think that this wasn't the same thing. It shouldn't have felt like he was losing his best friend.

Harry noticed when her glass of pumpkin juice was low, and he immediately topped it up with his own. He frowned at the sound of Ron's laughter drifting down the table towards them. "You can't actually be okay with this?" he asked eventually, having reached his patience threshold. "I mean, if I didn't know any better, I'd think he was trying to rub it in my face."

"I thought the two of you were okay now?"

Harry sighed. "I suppose we are. I just get the feeling that he's enjoying this all a little too much."

"Because he believes you liked Lavender at some point?"

He nodded.

"I did tell you I was sorry about that, right? You have forgiven me, haven't you?"

He nudged her with his elbow, grinning at the memory. "If you could have seen how red you got that day; you would have forgiven yourself as well."

"Oh hush."

"But of course I've forgiven you," he said seriously. "I'd have no friends if I hadn't."

"That's not true, and you know it," she said hotly.

"Well, I don't have friends I can talk to the way I can talk to you," he clarified. "You're really important to me," he admitted. "I say that selfishly and I'm not the least ashamed of it. I definitely wouldn't make it without you."

Hermione's breath caught. It was a strange reaction for her because it definitely wasn't the first time Harry had used such words of sentiment with her. She didn't know why but things felt different now. His words suddenly carried a lot more meaning.

After dinner, Harry and Hermione headed to the library. On their way to their table, they came across a table of Hufflepuff girls who giggled when they walked past.

"What's that about?" Harry eventually asked, once they were seated opposite each other at their table. The textbook in front of him was open to a potion they were learning. It wasn't all that exciting, though somewhat deadly.

"It's stupid," Hermione dismissed.

That definitely piqued his interest. "Ooh, now you have to tell me."

"Honestly, Harry, it's not important," she said, wishing he would drop it.

"Tell me anyway."

She let out an irritated breath. "Well, if you must know, it's all to do with what happened yesterday."

Harry had to think about it. "Yesterday?"

"The thing you did for me…" she prompted, hoping he would remember without her actually having to explain.

"You mean my standing up for you to Malfoy?"

"No, you always do that."

"That's what I thought," he muttered. "But, if not that, then what?"

"I'm referring to the thing you did after that."

Harry had to rack his brain but nothing came to him in that moment. Very little had been particularly strange about their Wednesday. Well, if he didn't count that fact that Draco had actually said something snarky to him. The resident Slytherin had been worryingly quiet since they returned to school.

Hermione really didn't want to have to remind him, so she didn't, and he didn't press it. Instead, they began to work quietly and diligently.

It wasn't until much later when Harry was lying in bed that he remembered what had happened the previous day. And, even there alone in the darkness, he started to blush.

Indeed, after their little run-in with Malfoy, who was acting unusually strange; Hermione had looked quite disheveled. Harry didn't like it so, right in front of everyone; he made her look at him, pushed some hair behind her ear and asked if she was all right. While he had asked it, his eyes had never left hers and his fingers had never left her cheek. It had been an intimate moment between them that practically their entire year had witnessed.

No wonder Hermione hadn't wanted to explain it to him. And how people were giggling about them. Harry didn't want that. He found that it was just the giggling that bothered him the most. Otherwise, he was fine with everything else.

His breath caught. _Everything else_. That apparently now included intimate moments with Hermione. How could that be?

He tried not to think about it too much as he drifted to sleep. And, unsurprisingly, he had sweet dreams. Anything to keep Hermione's wishes coming true.


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

Friday started out as a relaxed day for Harry. He took his _Firebolt_ out in the afternoon after their classes to run drills while Hermione lay in the sun and read yet another Muggle book. Some of the Gryffindor team eventually joined him for the hell of it, even though they had a scheduled team practice for the next morning. Ron was not one of them. Ginny was.

Harry ran through drills for the chasers, sending them this way and that way, going through exercises to improve their peripheral vision.

Harry called it a day when it started to get dark, sending them all back into the castle. Hermione included.

"Aren't you coming in?" she asked, when he didn't move to walk with her.

He shook his head.

"Why not? Are you going somewhere or something?"

He smiled. "If you must know, Miss Granger, I am going to visit Hagrid."

"Oh," she sounded. "But dressed like that?" she asked, scrutinising his Quidditch practice attire.

Harry shrugged. "Seriously, Hermione, it's Hagrid we're talking about here."

She nodded her conceit, even though she desperately wanted to say something more, if only to keep him around a little longer. She didn't want to have to head back into the castle without him, and possibly have dinner without him. Eventually, she said: "Well, enjoy."

For a moment, Harry was tempted to ask her if she wanted to join them but the words didn't come out. Another, much larger, part of his brain was convinced that she wanted to spend some time away from him. Even for a little while. So he didn't say anything. "I'll see you later," he said instead.

She gave him one last smile before he headed on his way. Visits to Hagrid were always worth remembering. The gentle giant was always a story waiting to be told.

Harry was just glad that Hagrid was still alive. In Harry's short life, it was quickly becoming apparent that those who were close to him would always be in great danger. Even Hogwarts couldn't keep them all safe forever. Dumbledore wouldn't be able to protect them always.

As usual, Hagrid tried to feed him. All Harry asked for was tea. He didn't quite have the stomach for Hagrid's cuisine quite yet. It would be a miracle if he ever did.

It was already past ten o'clock when Harry made his way back up to castle. Most of the corridors were dark, eerie and quiet. It was strange, mainly because it was a Friday night. Where was everyone? Why weren't they running amok in the corridors?

He went past the Great Hall to find nearly every student congregated to witness Fred and George Weasley being Fred and George Weasley. He really didn't want to be around when Professor McGonagall came to break up the party so he headed back to the Gryffindor common room, intent on calling it at night.

Harry heard the sobs first. The entire room was quite dark, with the only light coming from the fire, but Harry would recognise that sound anywhere.

He stepped into the room and spotted a figure sitting on the couch, head bowed and shaking. "Hermione?" he asked softly, moving towards her.

When Hermione looked up; he caught sight of her tears before she hurriedly wiped them away, trying to get rid of the evidence. "Oh, Harry. Hi."

He rushed over to her, sitting down beside her and turning his body to face her. "What's wrong? What happened?"

She laughed through her tears. "Oh, it's nothing."

He just gave her a sideways looking, waiting for her to elaborate.

"It's stupid."

"Not it's not. You definitely wouldn't be crying if it were. What happened? What did Ron do?"

Hermione was about to dismiss it again, but the look in his green eyes made her stop. The worry, the need to protect her, the love; it was all so very overwhelming. And strangely welcoming.

"Do I have to talk to him? I'll talk to him."

"No," she said softly, sighing. "It's nothing like that. I just, I've come to the realisation that Ron really doesn't feel for me even a fraction of what I think I feel for him."

Harry took a moment to digest that piece of information. "And how exactly do you know that?" he eventually asked.

Hermione cleared her throat. "You weren't at dinner. It was strange. Ron sat with Lavender again, so I had dinner…"

Harry cut her off. "By yourself?" he asked, horrified.

"No, goodness no," she said quickly. "Neville was there, and Seamus. Even Katie Bell. Dean and Ginny might have dropped in for a moment, I'm not sure. But anyway, there was no Ron, and there was no Harry. It was strange for all of us, I think."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"It's fine. We're growing up. Things are changing."

"They don't have to change that way though," he muttered. "But is that why you're crying?"

She shook her head. "I'm a girl, but I'm not _that_ much of a girl."

"Hermione, stop evading the question with humour," he said hotly. "I need to know what happened so I know I've got a reason when I punch that git."

Hermione looked down at her hands in her lap, secretly wondering why she hadn't told him yet. She wasn't trying to protect Ron. Was she trying to protect what she and Harry had?

"He said he was okay with it," Hermione finally said.

"What?"

"Ron," she clarified. "After dinner, I was sitting here reading. He came in alone, for once. It was a bit awkward but he eventually came to sit down next to me. He asked me what I was reading. We talked for a while about nothing in particular. It was as if he was gearing himself up to say something he had been meaning to say for quite some time. And then he said it… He told me he was okay with it."

"Okay with what?"

"You and me," she said softly.

Harry's eyes opened wide. "What?"

"He said that he would be okay with it if we were dating; that he'd even prefer it if we just came out with it, so things would stop being weird. He even mentioned the possibility of a double date, and I was absolutely horrified."

Harry covered his mouth with his left hand, out of shock and utter disbelief. "Oh my. Hermione, I'm so sorry."

"I'm fine, really. I am. I just, I suppose I'm just really shocked. I mean, it's so stupid how affected I am, really. And embarrassing."

Harry took a deep breath. For a moment, he didn't know what to say. What could he say? She looked broken, but the worst part was that she looked like she accepted it, which literally broke his heart. But before he could open his mouth to speak, Ginny came rushing in. She stopped dead when she spotted them.

The teenagers on the couch could tell that the youngest Weasley was also crying. Harry just shook his head to make sure his eyes were seeing what they were actually seeing. What on earth was going on tonight?

Ginny seemed paralysed for a moment, caught between backing out of the common room and forcing conversation with the two of them. Eventually, she was obligated to choose the latter in order to avoid the awkwardness.

"Umm, have you seen Dean?" she asked. "Did he come through here?"

Harry waited a dazed moment, before he responded. "No," he finally answered. "Haven't seen him."

"Oh okay." Ginny turned on her heel and headed to the back of the common room. She sat down in a large armchair, and buried her face in her hands, her body beginning to shake with her own silent sobs.

Harry and Hermione sat for a full minute in complete silence, Ginny's current disposition swimming through both their minds. Harry didn't know what he felt about it. He hated that she was crying but he didn't feel the necessary obligation to comfort her. It was confusing.

Hermione spoke first, in a whisper. "Harry, you should go to her."

Harry swallowed. "What?"

"You should go to her," she continued. "You should go and comfort her, Harry. Now's your chance."

He didn't move. He couldn't.

"She's been fighting with Dean," Hermione said. "I hate to see her like this. I can only imagine how hard this must be for you. So you should go to her."

Harry turned to look at the girl beside him. "I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?" she asked, her tone uncertain.

Harry kept his eyes on her. There was nobody else in the room in that moment. "Can you, with absolute certainty, tell me that, if I were to go over there, you would suddenly no longer be sad?"

She frowned. "What?"

"If I stand up, will you stop being sad?"

"Umm," Hermione sounded.

"That's what I thought," Harry said, leaning back and relaxing into the couch. "See, the thing is, Hermione, I'm not like Ron that way."

"What way?"

"I could go over there, sure, in pursuit of a relationship I think I want, but what would I be losing in the process?"

She frowned. "Excuse me?"

"What kind of guy would I be if I just left you here? What kind of guy would I be even to consider it? I don't want to lose my friends in pursuit of a relationship."

"Harry, really, it's all right," she assured him. "I'll be fine, I promise."

"No," he said sternly. "I'm staying right here. With you. It is my life's vocation, as your best friend, to ensure that you are never sad. And if that means sitting here until you're no longer sad, then I'm going to do that."

Slowly, a smile spread across her face. "You can be so difficult sometimes," she said, huffing. "I have no idea what I'm going to do with you."

"You could always make me a kept man," he said, his eyes glinting with his Harry-like mischief. "You know there's no one else for me."

Before Hermione could respond, Dean came running in, clearly looking for someone. Ginny.

Harry and Hermione watched as he spotted her, and as he coaxed and led her out of the common room, mumbling unintelligible apologies. Witnessing it was difficult for Harry to watch, but he knew it was better that way. His place was right there on the couch. With Hermione.

Where, he sometimes hoped, it would always be.

* * *

Harry couldn't be sure what exactly changed between him and Hermione, but something definitely did. The conversations became more profound and the touches lasted for much longer. Their eyes also started to meet more often and their looks started to linger.

Harry found the whole thing rather exciting, and frightening. Hermione was his best friend. In all the years he had known her, he had never been so electrified by her presence. He was suddenly always looking forward to seeing her and talking to her and even just standing next to her. Her presence had a calming, yet electrifying effect on him.

The two of them existed that way for several days before something had to happen to make them face things as they were: the Slug Club party.

The party itself was slowly becoming a thorn in Harry's side. And in Hermione's. She was cautiously coming to accept that maybe she had been wrong about everything, and merely accepting that was quite a feat for her. Could it really have always been Harry? Suddenly, he was all her mind would think about when it wasn't focused on schoolwork. Even then, in the midst of her _light_ reading, she would find her thoughts drifting to some sassy thing he said or that ridiculous smile of mischief he wore more often than not.

"You still haven't answered the question," Hermione said, as they walked the corridors towards the Great Hall for dinner the following Thursday.

"Which question?" Harry asked.

"Who are you taking to the party?"

Harry stopped walking to look at her. "Oh, right, hmm, that…" He sighed. "And it's not as if we can just not go, now can we?"

She gave him a sideways look. "Professor Slughorn would be so heartbroken. He seems to be quite a delicate man."

"That is true," he agreed quietly.

She hit the back of her hand against his abdomen. "But seriously, what are we going to do about this party, Harry? It's actually starting to stress me out."

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Ideally, you'd want to take Ron…"

"And you'd want to take Ginny."

"But you can't do that, because, well, he is acting like a git. And taken."

Hermione just smiled. "And you can't take Ginny because, well, for obvious reasons. So who are you going to take?"

Harry knew what he wanted to say, but he knew he couldn't. Or shouldn't. Whichever one, the word 'you' was never going to escape his lips. "You're so worried about me; who are you going to take?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip. She was thinking quite hard about something, and Harry couldn't take his eyes off her face; it was that kind of mesmerizing. "I might have an idea," she eventually said, her voice soft and barely audible. There were a lot of feelings going on inside of her that she needed to get a hold of before she ended up saying or doing something she would regret. "But I should probably check on that before I mention it to you."

He frowned. "Okay," he said skeptically. "But tell me this, do I need to be worried about anything right now?"

She just laughed, before she continued walking, prompting him to do the same. Truthfully her – lack of – answer didn't do much to calm him. Which was probably why he found it so difficult to fall asleep when he finally climbed into bed.

The thing was that Harry could count on one hand the number of girls he could actually stand to be around. Hermione was on the list, definitely right at the top. Ginny, of course. Although, at present, he turned into a mumbling teenage boy whenever she was around. And it no longer seemed to be out of nervousness. The truth was that he just wasn't sure what they would talk about anymore. Cho was probably also on the list, even though their time _together_ had been rather strange. Maybe Katie, on her good days. And Luna.

Luna!

Harry would ask Luna. There was an idea. He decided. In the morning, he would ask her.

Unfortunately for him, Luna wasn't anywhere to be found at breakfast in the Great Hall. And neither was Hermione. He would have been worried, if his brown-haired best friend hadn't eventually rolled into Potions class right after him, looking a bit wistful. She seemed particularly distracted though, as if something had happened, and she made a point not to look in his direction. It confused him, and made him believe he had done something wrong. Although, he had no idea what, and it hurt him more than he would have liked to admit.

Professor Slughorn was especially excited about his upcoming Slug Club party that he thought it best to demonstrate a particularly intricate potion recipe. That meant that very little talking could occur among the students, especially with Harry deciding to be a diligent student and all.

After the lesson, Hermione rushed off to Muggle Studies, while Harry and Ron strolled in the opposite direction. As they walked, Harry was struck by the thought that he didn't feel like he could actually talk to Ron about what was going on with him. It didn't have anything to do with his changing, confusing feelings towards Hermione or his changing, confusing feelings towards Ginny. It was to do with Ron.

The two boys weren't seeing eye to eye and neither one could quite pinpoint where the problem was, which was mainly because they weren't talking like they usually did. And Harry supposed they were both too stubborn to broach the subject with any seriousness.

By the time it was lunch, Harry had barely said more than a greeting to Hermione, and he hadn't yet laid eyes on Luna, which was enough to put him in a foul mood. At least, though, the white-haired witch was in the Great Hall. Before Harry lost his nerve, he headed straight towards where she was sitting at the Ravenclaw table. He sat down beside her, facing away from the table and started to speak.

By the time the entire conversation was over, Harry would have given an arm and a leg to forget it had ever happened.

He definitely wasn't hungry anymore. He was too hurt and confused for food. And mad. He was painfully angry, and he wasn't sure why that was. Well, he had an idea, but it definitely wasn't justified. Surely.

Harry retreated to the Gryffindor common room to clear his head. Thankfully, everyone was at lunch, which gave him time alone to wrap his head around what he was feeling. What was he feeling?

It took Hermione fifteen minutes to find him. From his demeanour, she could immediately sense that something was off, and she was almost sure it had nothing to do with her. Or it had _everything_ to do with her.

"Harry?" she asked softly, moving to stand in front of where he was sitting on their famous couch.

He took his time looking up at her, almost not wanting to. But his need to see her face outweighed the fact that he was mad at her. And he was. Unjustifiably though. Hurt as well.

Hermione read it on his face, like only she could. "You're mad?" she asked curiously.

Harry's brow creased. How could she tell?

"You're mad at me?" she inferred from his mystified expression.

"I am not."

"Harry, I know all your expressions and I can clearly tell that you're mad. But you're not just mad; you're mad at me specifically. Why?"

The fact that she claimed to know all of his expressions worried him for a moment. How was he supposed to hide his feelings from her then? As confusing as they were. It worried him the most because he didn't want her to be able to tell that some things had changed for him.

"Harry," Hermione prompted.

"I asked Luna to accompany me to the party," he eventually said, his face set in a heavy frown.

"Oh," she said, smiling, even though she was confused by his facial expression. "That's a brilliant idea. Why didn't I think of that?"

"She said no," he muttered curtly.

Hermione's breath caught. "Oh?" She kept her eyes on him, mindful of the seemingly permanent creases on his forehead. "But that doesn't seem to be the reason you're mad?"

Gosh, what kind of witch was she?

Harry nodded once. "Apparently she wouldn't feel right going with me; especially after the heart-to-heart the two of you apparently had this morning."

Hermione just stared at him, trying her best not to show him her panic. What had Luna told him? She was trying to figure out why he was reacting the way he was, and his tone of voice definitely wasn't helping.

"I don't know what that all means but I guess it just means that I'm going alone, or I'm not going to go at all," he eventually concluded, huffing.

"Don't be ridiculous," she reprimanded.

He had to say it, the thing bothering him the most: "I mean, I don't even care what you talked about; it's just that, umm, you had a heart-to-heart with Luna."

Again, she didn't understand his tone. It didn't match his facial expression. "Okay?"

"With Luna."

Slowly, she started to understand. She hadn't had the heart-to-heart with him.

Harry looked down at his hands lying in his lap. He suddenly felt very small. "It's just that, well, I suppose I started to think that, umm, I was the person with who you now had your heart-to-hearts."

She could have sworn her heart swelled to quadruple its size. A smile spread across her face as she finally moved to sit down beside him. "Oh, Harry, you are," she assured him, putting a hand over both of his. "You most definitely are. But, and I don't mean to make you feel awkward or uncomfortable, there are just certain things that only girls can talk about, if you know what I mean."

Harry slowly turned his head to look at her, feeling quite embarrassed. "Otherwise you would have talked to me?" he asked for clarification.

"Of course. You're my number one man, Harry Potter." It was the truth. "I just needed a girl's opinion on something and, well, Luna is Luna, so I'm going to need to hit the library to decipher exactly what she was trying to tell me."

That made him laugh, making the sometimes permanent frown on his face disappear.

"I'll always talk to you, Harry," she added for good measure. "And I'm sorry that Luna said no. I don't know why she did that." It was a blatant lie though. She knew exactly why.

He let out a defeated breath. "I'm sure she has her reasons," he said. "She's still my friend nonetheless. It's probably short notice anyway. You know how girls need at least seventy two hours to be ready in time."

She punched his arm in mock shock. "We so do not."

"Well, you don't," he said, tilting his head. "You just have to arrive, and you'll still be the most beautiful witch around."

If her heart could have grown any bigger, it definitely would have. Her cheeks burned deep red, and she had to look away from him to calm herself.

Harry sensed her embarrassment, though it didn't stop him from asking his next question. "So, that thing you said you had to check on, about your date to the party; are you ever going to tell me?"

"Gosh," she said, shaking her head. "I actually didn't need Luna to tell me _that_ was always going to be a terrible idea."

It was Harry's turn to read her face. It came to him quite quickly. "Hermione, tell me you didn't?"

Her eyes widened. "Didn't what?"

"Please, please tell me you are not going with Cormac?" he practically pleaded.

Hermione waited a beat before she responded. "Well, honestly, I did consider it," she admitted; "but then I had a better idea."

"Of course, being the brightest witch of our generation and all."

Realising she still had hold of his hands, she squeezed them to keep him quiet. "I thought that, seeing as we can't actually, umm, go with the people we want to…" She had to pause to get through the words that felt like a lie. "Well, I thought that maybe, umm, you and I could go together."

Harry stared at her for a long moment, having to force himself to blink. "Are you sure?" he found himself asking, just managing to keep it together. The way she was looking at him made his insides twist, but in a good way.

"Of course," she said, starting to feel more confident about her suggestion. Then: "Why wouldn't I want to go with my best friend?"

Right, of course, Harry thought, best friend.

Harry loved the fact that she was his best friend. He always would, but he also hated that that was all they would ever seem to be.

* * *

Even though they were really only going as friends, Harry was in a constant state of stress. Nothing managed to calm him. Not even Quidditch practice that Saturday morning was enough to stop him from imagining every way the evening could go.

Hermione did not go out to lie on the grass while he did his speed drills, which was fine with him. She was a girl. Girls needed time to get ready; to deem themselves presentable. Slow, through Hermione, Harry came to realise that sometimes girls didn't actually dress up for others; they did it for themselves.

Hermione claimed that she wanted to feel pretty, and Harry wondered why she didn't feel that way all the time. The girl was beautiful, inside and out.

Harry, of course, was ready and waiting in the Gryffindor common room first anyway. He stood alone, surprisingly, and willed his breathing to remain steady. Everything about this evening screamed of something more and Harry wanted it to go in a certain direction; a direction that could change everything.

Hermione didn't make Harry wait too long though. And, similar to the Yule Ball, she rendered him speechless when she descended the steps. It wasn't even that his mouth wouldn't move; it was that his brain wouldn't think.

Hermione came to a stop right in front of him. "Looking very handsome, Mr Potter."

Still, he couldn't speak.

"Shall we?" she offered, starting to move past him.

Harry gently took hold of her arm, stopping her. "Wait," he whispered. "I need a minute to catch my breath."

Cue Hermione's burning cheeks. She could barely look at him.

"I don't even, umm, I just, well, you look," he mumbled nonsensically. Eventually, he cleared his throat, finally putting his thoughts together. "It's not fair, you know?"

"What?"

He grinned. "Your looking the way you do, Hermione. Honestly, every girl is inferior, and every boy is just stupid. Why don't you do us all a favour and turn down the beauty?"

That was her Harry.

He put out his arm. "Shall we?"

She slipped her arm through his and allowed him to lead the way.

Half an hour into the event, Harry's initial reluctance to participate in the festivities was already forgotten. The evening turned into quite a memorable one. Professor Slughorn was as animated as ever, and Harry barely saw Ginny. He didn't even care why that might be.

Hermione had his full attention and the rest of the room fell into the insignificant background. It just amazed him that he had ever seen her as anything less than spectacular. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her, afraid he might miss a look on her face or a word she said.

After the entire party was over, Harry and Hermione hung around to talk to Professor Slughorn. Harry did it partly because Dumbledore had asked him to, but mainly because he didn't want the night to end. Because, when it ended, he would have to say goodnight to Hermione.

Professor Slughorn cleared them out just after midnight, and the two of them roamed the corridors for a while, buzzing with positive excitement. All in all, Harry was convinced the evening had turned into quite the success.

"Do you know what I want to do?" Hermione suddenly asked, injecting even more enthusiasm into her tone.

Harry marveled at her. "And what exactly is that?"

The way he looked at her made her feel embarrassed, which made her mouth clamp shut.

"Oh come on," Harry said, nudging her softly with his elbow. "You can tell me. I promise I won't laugh."

"It's not even that bad," she said, shaking her head. "It's just stupid, and even childish."

"And I won't care either way. What do you want to do? Let's do it. I'm all for it. Honestly."

Hermione was slightly taken aback by his eagerness. But, without much more pressing, she finally told him what she wanted to do. Which was exactly how they found themselves lying on the grass on which they had their very first flying lesson all those years ago, looking up at the stars.

Harry shifted quite a bit to make sure that he was comfortably lying beside her. Because, as it were, they were about to have a conversation he would probably never forget.

* * *

Hermione started to speak first, cutting into their comfortable silence. She decided to wait a while to voice her thoughts, thinking that Harry would have wanted a few minutes to appreciate fully the starry spectacle above them.

The truth was that Harry used those few minutes to decide if it were a good idea to tell Hermione about the doubts he was having regarding Ginny, and the certainties that now surrounded his female best friend.

"You had fun tonight, didn't you?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer. She very rarely asked questions she didn't already know the answers to.

Harry didn't admit it immediately. He was feeling too content to speak, in case he said something to ruin the moment. He suddenly didn't trust himself with his own words.

"I love that ridiculous smile of yours," she said. "And I especially love that it's back these days. If I didn't know any better, Harry Potter; I would think that it all has a little something to do with me."

Harry swallowed, his eyes still looking up at the sky. "Well, you are the brightest witch of our generation, Hermione. You would know better, wouldn't you?"

Hermione couldn't stop herself from smiling. The giddiness spread through her unsuspecting body, even making her feel embarrassed. Did he just admit that she was the reason he was smiling; that she was the reason he was so happy?

Harry allowed them to drift into their comfortable silence. It made him feel relaxed. He wasn't tense with worry over his words anymore. This was Hermione. He could talk to Hermione. He could tell her all his thoughts. He could tell her about his feelings.

Hermione bloke the silence first. "Have you ever thought about what you want from life?" she asked, her voice airy and searching.

Harry had to force himself not to look at her, as much as he desperately wanted to. "Not really," he admitted. "It's never really occurred to me that I might survive Voldemort. I don't think I'll get to grow old and maybe have a family and eventually be happy. I don't even think that I deserve to."

She pressed her lips together, making sure she didn't shoot down his thoughts, no matter how preposterous they actually were. He had to know that he, out of anyone she had ever met, deserved all from life.

"I assume you think about it?" Harry prompted.

She decided she would return to his response later. There was no need to attack him with tales of the sort of life she envisioned for him. "All the time," she informed him. "I'm fully aware of the fact that I'm known as a bookworm, a goody-two-shoes, even boring on occasion; but, frankly, I don't care. When I leave this place, Harry; I want to be able to become something so much more than I've even dreamed."

"And you will."

"Thank you, Harry," she quipped. "But it's not even about just doing anything. It's about taking this thing, this unthinkable, magical thing that we've been offered here and doing something valuable and useful with it. I feel like we owe the world that."

"Don't you think you're already doing that now?" he had to ask. "Honestly, Hermione, if you could fail out of Hogwarts, Ron and I would be long gone by now, if it weren't for you."

Hermione ignored his comment. "I think about how it's going to be after we graduate and leave this place. It's going to be different, which will be sad, but I think it's all going to be so very exciting. Aren't you excited by it?"

Harry didn't answer. Wishing for a future was injecting hope into an otherwise horribly predetermined life he was already living. He knew he wouldn't survive what was surely coming. The only way the world – not just the Wizarding one – would be safe would be if Voldemort was dead and never to return. And Harry was fully aware that the only way to do that was if he died himself.

Olivander had predicted it all those years ago. Harry and Voldemort were tethered together in intricate and unspeakable ways. There was surely no way one could live without the other. Harry almost laughed at how boring his life would surely become without the dark forces to keep him occupied. It was already so difficult being a teenager.

"I want to be a mother," Hermione admitted after a while, having realised that Harry wasn't going to respond. "Is that silly? It's probably such a girly thing to say."

Harry didn't dismiss her, like she was sure others would have. "I don't think you're silly. I think you would make a great mother. Strict and no fun maybe, but definitely great."

She laughed out loud. "Oh wow. You're probably the master of turning a compliment into an insult in the same sentence."

"What can I say? I'm talented."

She let out a breath. "Because you're Harry Potter," she said softly.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, you're Harry Potter." This time, she did look at him, turning only her head. "You are already a great wizard, Harry; but you're an even better person. And of course you deserve a future. You deserve the richest of lives, solely because you've already suffered more loss and negligence that any of those prisoners up in Azkaban. And at no fault of your own, might I add. How is it that a perfect, kind, thoughtful, generous boy like you can be punished for being born?"

"Isn't that the right question to be asking?"

"Stop," she said strongly. "Don't dilute what I'm trying to say with humour, Harry. You are allowed to dream and have hopes. This is what I want for you; what everyone who loves you wants for you."

There was that word again. "Because you love me," he whispered.

"Exactly," she continued, just as strongly. "Now I know that the rest of your life looks dark, and maybe for a while it will be, but I believe that we can make our destinies." She paused. "Okay, no, now that definitely sounds silly."

"Let us take a moment to acknowledge that you were the one who said it."

"Gosh, you are properly the worst."

Harry propped himself up on his one elbow. "You know, every time you say things like that; it hurts my feelings," he said playfully.

"Well, then, it turns out that I'm not the only girl in this castle who doesn't care how you feel," she just said, the words basically slipping out without her consent.

Harry's face dropped, going pale almost instantly. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione rushed. "That came out all wrong."

Harry was more curious as to from where the words had come. "What does that even mean?"

"What?" she asked, trying to buy herself some time to formulate a proper response. Why had she said that?

Harry sat up fully, his eyes square on hers. "What does that mean, Hermione?"

Hermione sat up as well, coming to a decision. "I care about you, Harry; you know that I do, but I just, well, I, umm, I don't think that Ginny is the girl for you."

He frowned. "Excuse me?"

She swallowed, trying desperately to think of a way to avoid this topic of conversation.

"Hermione?" he questioned, a certain fear of betrayal clouding his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

She sighed. "I think Ginny knows."

His heart literally stopped. He felt it actually stop beating in his chest for a shocked moment. "Knows… what?"

"That you like her."

Harry blinked uncontrollably a few times, wishing she had said something different. "But, umm, no, how? No. Why? What?" Then he came to a realisation. "How long have you known?"

"It was time to be truthful. "Luna and I overheard her talking to Parvati yesterday morning," she started to explain. "It's why we missed breakfast. Umm, Ginny ended up saying something about how inconvenient it was having two guys after her; how she wasn't something to own and how she didn't even have feelings for either one anyway."

Harry just stared at his best friend, unable to comprehend fully what he was being told. "Why didn't you tell me?" he eventually asked, sounding more broken than she had ever heard him.

"I wanted to," she told him. "Honestly, I did. I just, I didn't want to hurt you. And I didn't want to ruin your evening either. And I wasn't even sure how to anyway, or if it was the right thing to be doing. I'm no good at this kind of thing, Harry. I even spoke to Luna about it and she says –"

He cut her off. "That's what you spoke to Luna about?" he asked, anger seeping into his tone. "That. My so-called love life. Oh wow, well, thank you, Hermione," he snapped. "How on earth did Ginny even find out?"

She read the look on his face. "I did not tell her, I swear. I haven't told a single person. And I didn't even mention your name to Luna."

He frowned again, confusion deepening it. "Then why did she say no?"

Hermione knew she couldn't answer that question. Definitely not. So she bit her bottom lip and waited for him to calm down.

"You know the reason, don't you?"

Still, she said nothing. She had to think of something to say. Anything.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"It's personal."

"More personal than my best friend conveniently forgetting to tell me that the girl I liked knew all about it?"

Hermione tilted her head. "Liked?"

Harry frowned again, more at his own use of words this time. "Slip of the tongue," he muttered.

She chose to believe him. "And yes, more personal than that."

Harry stared at her for a long time. He was mad, but he wasn't sure it was justified. He wouldn't be sure he would know how to tell Hermione that Ron knew she liked him. How does that conversation even begin? And he was probably mad at the fact that Ginny knew and was hoping he would do nothing about it. That hurt, but not nearly as much as the thought that Hermione had willingly kept something from him. They were better friends than that.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I really am. I promise, one day, I will tell you, but I'm certain that neither of us is ready."

That merely confused him even more, but he still said: "Okay." He was ready now.

"Okay?" she sounded, deftly surprised.

He nodded once. "You are my best friend. The closest person I have in this whole place. If you're not the one I trust with all that I am, then I wouldn't even begin to know who is."

For the first time in her life, Hermione had the incredible urge to lean forward and kiss him. It surprised her more that anything. Clearly, her talk with Luna hadn't helped. These feelings she had, rumbling in the pit of her stomach, were bound to erupt dangerously. And nobody was ready for that. At least Luna was right about that.

"What I want to know is how Ginny found out," Harry continued, clearly oblivious to the short circuit going on in Hermione's brain. "Did she ever actually say my name?"

"Excuse me?"

"When you overheard her, which is actually called eavesdropping, by the way; did she ever actually say that one of the two guys after her was me?"

Hermione thought about that for a moment. "Umm. No, not that I recall."

"Then she might not have even been talking about me," he offered.

"It is possible," she found herself saying.

Harry appeared relieved. "Then she'll never have to know," he mumbled to himself. Then, louder, so she could hear: "It's hard enough knowing about Dean. Now there's someone else to contend with." He meant to make it sound like a joke, but it came out all wrong. Something was happening again, and he did not like it one little bit.

Harry waited another minute before he lay back down. Hermione didn't join him. Her own mind was spinning. The boy was right. For all she knew, Ginny had been speaking about someone else. What amazed her was how calm he was.

Hermione started to worry that she was projecting. It would explain a lot. Was this all just transference of feelings to Harry, because Ron was taken? It was a horribly disgusting thought but it was something she had to consider.

Harry broke their silence. He had a burning question to ask, which could possibly lead to more questions. More revelations. Even decisions. "Do you really think Ginny isn't the girl for me?"

Hermione had to think about her response very carefully. Saying exactly what she thought she wanted to say was definitely not an option. "It doesn't matter what I think. It's what you think, Harry."

"What you think does matter to me," he told her. "I know you, and you know me. Am I crazy to think this is what I want? Her?"

"You're not crazy, Harry. What you want is what you want. All I want is for you to be happy."

He sighed. "That's just the thing. I'm not entirely sure what I want anymore."

"What do you mean by that?"

Harry sat up again so their eyes could meet. He made his decision. Something had to be said. It was now or never. That's what it was. That was how he felt. "We've been spending all this time together…"

"Indeed we have."

"And I don't know if I'm getting confused or this is how I've always felt, but I never want what we've got going on over here to end."

Her brow creased.

"I don't mean to overwhelm you," he said, sensing some distress. "I'm just feeling a lot of feelings. About you, Hermione. You are, at present, the most important person in my life, and I don't want that ever to change. Nobody understands me like you do, and I wouldn't want anyone else to. I've been thinking about this, and I don't know what to make of it. I'm scared of losing you, Hermione. I would never survive that. So, despite myself, I'm happy that Ron and Lavender are together." He paused to gather his bearings again. "That's probably not what you want to hear. This probably isn't either but I have to tell you that I can't imagine my life, any life, without you."

Hermione blinked a few times. She wasn't sure what exactly he was saying and she refused to allow herself to believe that he was actually saying what she desperately wished he was saying. "Harry?" she whispered.

"I don't want things to be weird," he said.

"I don't either," she agreed.

"We're friends."

"We are."

"We want to stay that way."

Hermione hesitated. "We do," she eventually said.

"It doesn't have to be weird. It's just something I had to tell you."

Hermione knew that that was a tall ask. It was already weird. There was this thing between them that they acknowledged but weren't brave enough to explore. Was it because he thought she liked Ron? Should she tell him that she was just as confused as he was? What could ever flourish from a whole mess of confusion? So she said nothing. Why risk their friendship over so much uncertainty?

Right?

Right.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

Without too much prompting, Harry and Hermione started to avoid each other like the plague. He started to practice Quidditch more often than not and involve himself quite heavily in getting to know Professor Slughorn, as Dumbledore had requested.

Hermione moved back to her own spot in the library without mentioning it to Harry. She didn't want to move, but she knew she had to. After the things he had said, without actually saying anything; she needed time to herself to figure out what she was feeling.

Their state of limbo managed to last three whole days before Ron pointed it out to them. It was at dinner the following Tuesday night and, as usual, Ron's mouth was full of food.

"What's eating you two?" he asked from across the table. "You've been acting weird all week. And right now, you're like statues."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Nothing's wrong," he said. "What on earth are you seeing?"

"What I'm seeing is my best friends, totally unable to look at each other."

Hermione took a long, calming breath. Like many times before, she needed Ron to stop talking. "That is so not true," Hermione said dismissively, keeping her eyes on Ron.

"Fine," Ron said; "look at him then."

Hermione couldn't stop herself from hesitating. Why was it so difficult to look at Harry all of a sudden? What didn't she want to see?

"Blimey, would you just look at the bloke?" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione huffed before she turned her head towards Harry, to find him already looking at her, an amused look framing his face. He looked so perfect, his innocence shining through.

"Hi," he said sheepishly.

Her heart practically melted at his single word. "Hi," she said back. "How are you?"

He shrugged. "Busy trying to prove to my idiot of a best friend that nothing is wrong."

"I can hear you," Ron muttered.

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing, as more of a stress reliever than anything. It felt nice to laugh with her again and he was tempted to say it, but he stopped himself.

Hermione turned to Ron. "Happy?"

Ron eyed them suspiciously. "I swear, I have the weirdest friends."

"He's probably right," Harry said to Hermione. "It's either that, or he's the weird one in the trio."

"Definitely the latter," Hermione agreed.

Ron faked a laugh. "Very funny." Then he continued with his dinner.

Harry and Hermione exchanged one more look, a silent understanding passing between them. The weirdness was gone, suddenly and ceremoniously dissipated into thin air. There was no use holding onto the awkwardness when all they really had was each other.

To set the stars right, Harry and Hermione returned to their spot in the library. They had quite a big Potions test for which they had to prepare. So they sat across from each other in silence and tried their best to focus.

It took Harry precisely seventeen minutes to figure out it was a hopeless case. There was no way he would be able to sit across from her and ignore the electrified energy passing between them. He eventually let out an exaggerated breath before he closed the textbook in front of him, not as violently as he anticipated, which was always good.

Hermione looked at him. "Harry?"

"I'm sorry about all the weirdness," he said quickly, even leaning forward in his chair, subconsciously wanting to be nearer to her.

Hermione sighed, setting aside her parchment and quill. "I am too."

He looked relieved.

"And you were right," she felt she had to add. "We have been spending a lot of time together, which can be quite confusing. I have to admit that I've also been feeling feelings."

Harry frowned. "You have? Why didn't you say anything?"

Her cheeks tinged pink but she pushed through, determined to say what she knew she had to. "I think we're projecting," she explained. "You like Ginny, Harry. You have for a while, and I'm just a distraction."

"You're not a distraction," he countered. "But I think I understand what you're trying to say." He paused, sticking the tip of his tongue out as he thought hard about her words. "Do you think I'm a distraction?" he asked softly, trying his best not to sound hurt.

Hermione only realised then how detrimental her choice of word actually was. "No, of course not," she said hotly, needing to get her point across. "But I think we've made ways for the other to hide away from unrequited feelings."

"By potentially finding requited ones?"

Hermione wasn't sure what to say to that.

"I accept your theory what we may be using each other as substitutes because the real objects of our affection either don't reciprocate our feelings or don't even know about them. But, answer me this, Miss Granger, what if you're wrong? And before you say anything, I'm well aware of the fact that you're very rarely wrong about anything. But even you have to admit that this isn't an exact science. We're both new to this kind of thing, aren't we? So I'm asking you, what if you are wrong?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip. That was something she wasn't quite ready to consider. "How is it that I could be wrong about this, Harry? How is it that, in some few weeks, I could go from being heartbroken over Ron and Lavender to being so damn hopeful that you'll forget all about your feelings for Ginny and want to be with me instead?"

Harry just stared at her, blinking unceremoniously as he tried to comprehend her words. Where had they come from?

"Wow," she breathed. "I said all of that out loud, didn't I?"

He nodded.

"Do you think I'm mental?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Well, I think I am," she said. "It's what I've been talking to Luna about. It doesn't make any sense to me, Harry. You and I have been best friends for years. Why does it feel so different all of a sudden?"

He wished he had answers for her but the reality was that this was all very different for the both of them.

"And you like Ginny," she stated, searching his eyes. "You definitely like her. You told me. It's more than just a crush, isn't it?"

Harry wasn't even sure anymore.

"So you can't just throw that all away just because you're confused about me, Harry. You owe yourself that much." The words hurt her to say but she knew she had to say them. It was for his own good.

Harry watched as she returned to her work. She could be incredibly convincing when she wanted to, but there was still a part of him that was convinced she could be wrong. She had to be. Such intense feelings didn't just appear out of nowhere and without warning. Surely they had to have been there all along, hidden under all the Ginny confusion. Exactly. What if he were confused about Ginny and certain about Hermione? It was just another question left unanswered.

Well.

There was always one way to find out.

One way to be absolutely certain.

Harry shook his head as he spoke, almost disbelieving that he was actually saying the words he was saying. "Maybe we should kiss?"

Hermione froze. "What?"

He sat up straight, even puffing out his chest with renewed confidence. "We should definitely kiss."

"Harry?"

"If you're so sure that these are just empty feelings, then the kiss would be awkward at best. But then we'll know for sure. If you don't feel anything, then I'll never bring it up again. I promise."

He didn't wait for a response as he rose to his feet, moving around the table. He put both his hands out for her to take.

"Right here?" she asked, guiltily looking around. There was nobody in sight; nobody to save her.

"Come on," he said soothingly. "I promise it's going to be okay. I won't bite."

Hermione met his gaze. "Funny."

He looked sure of something, possibly this. It was a scary thought. If he was right and she was wrong, they had a whole host of new problems. This kiss would determine that. Were they ready for it?

"Don't you trust me?" Harry asked softly.

Hermione took hold of his hands and used him to get to her feet. They moved to stand exactly opposite each other, mere centimetres between them.

He smiled at her, feeling slightly overwhelmed by their proximity. "Hi," he whispered.

She shook his head. "This is a bad idea."

He just continued to smile.

"How are we supposed to get over the awkwardness?"

Harry's smile wavered for a moment. "The same way we got over our weirdness earlier. Just have Ron call us out on it, and we'll be back to normal."

"Harry, we're about to kiss," she said. "I wouldn't exactly call that _back to normal_."

He beamed. "We're about to kiss."

"Wow, you really are such a boy."

He nodded, stepping towards her so the length of his body was against hers. "A boy who's in love with Hermione Granger," he whispered inaudibly. He barely gave her time to register that he had even made a sound before he kissed her, stealing the air from her lungs.

After a moment of hesitation, she kissed him back, her hands immediately moving to his neck, and then his raven hair.

Harry's hands found her waist as he deepened the kiss, feeling his heartbeat rise to dangerous levels. He was kissing Hermione Granger. He was finally kissing her. His smile worked its way from his lips right through his entire body. There was no way Hermione could tell him that she didn't feel it too. It was, please forgive him, magical.

Hermione felt like her knees might buckle. It was a good thing he was holding her up. Was this how it was supposed to feel? She couldn't imagine anything feeling even remotely better. Her entire body was tingling and her mind shut down for valuable seconds. But, when she came back online, all the possibly ramifications of this kiss hit her like a bus.

Hermione pulled away first, pushing on his chest to put some much needed space between them. He looked about as disoriented as she felt. It was, she hated to think it, a very sexy look on him.

"Harry," she whispered, her hands still up in front of her.

He gathered himself, refusing to step away from her. "Hermione."

"We shouldn't have done that."

Harry took a deep breath. "Maybe. But we did. And I'm so glad we did."

"Because now you know?"

Harry nodded. "Now I know."

She swallowed, steeling herself. "…That there's nothing there," she said carefully, the words tasting like bile in her throat. "I'm right."

The sudden lost look on his face broke her heart. She wasn't sure why she said it but it had to be said. This was all just too overwhelming. She wasn't ready. He was just confused.

Harry stepped back, his mind spinning. What was happening? How could he have been so spectacularly wrong? "You didn't feel anything?" he asked softly, his heart slowly breaking.

The lie left an acid taste in her mouth. "Nothing."

Harry's breath picked up as he tried to come to terms with what she was saying. That word sliced through him. "Oh."

"I'm sorry." The blank expression on his face told her that those words would never be enough.

"It's okay," he said, stepping back again.

She closed her eyes for a moment. "It's probably best we just forget this ever happened."

Harry had to put his hand on the table to stop himself from staggering backwards. Hearing her say the words was like an explosion going off in his chest. He swallowed. "You're probably right," he forced himself to say. "At least now we know, right?"

He turned and moved to sit back down in his chair. He couldn't even look at her as he reopened his textbook and started to read. He forced himself to stop thinking about the tingling on his lips. Clearly, none of it had ever meant anything to her. And that was even more heartbreaking than the rejection.

How could they ever get _back to normal_ after all of this?

Harry went to bed first, excusing himself a mere half an hour later. He just couldn't bring himself to sit across from her knowing that she felt nothing. Nothing. He didn't even know how that could be.

Before he left, Hermione had to ask him one more time if they were okay.

Harry nodded. "We're fine, Hermione," he assured her, forcing himself to keep his tone even. "Things will go back to the way they were, I promise."

As she watched him go, her tears started to fall. He looked broken, and it was her fault. She wasn't even sure why she was so afraid to tell him the truth. He was the one person she never wanted to lie to. But telling him the truth was too scary. The profoundness of whatever was going on between them was nothing like she had ever experienced before. She didn't like things she couldn't read up about in a book she could find in the library.

Hermione may have wanted to sleep in the library but the sudden urge to have another heart-to-heart with Luna overcame her. So, wiping her tears, she bolted from her seat and made her way towards the Ravenclaw dormitories.

Thankfully, Luna wasn't asleep. Hermione found her sitting in a windowsill in one of the corridors, looking out at the starry night. Hermione moved to sit down beside her, choosing to face inwards rather than look out at the stunning night. She convinced herself she didn't deserve to witness the beauty of the dark sky.

Luna took her time acknowledging Hermione's presence. She eventually turned her head but did not say anything.

That was enough to get Hermione talking. The first words out of her mouth surprised her. "I'm in love with him." She clamped her mouth shut with her left hand, shocked at her own admission.

Luna didn't look surprised. In fact, she was baffled as to how the two of them hadn't seen it sooner.

"And I'm scared it's going to destroy me," Hermione continued. "I didn't know anything could be this strong; like an all-consuming fire. I'm so scared we'll end up ruining each other if it doesn't work out.

"I want him to know every bit of me. I don't want to hide a thing from him. I want to be around him all the time. I want to be the reason he smiles, and the first person he tells when he has a reason not to. I want all of these things, with him, but I'm so afraid of loving him so fiercely and then having it all taken away from me."

Luna looked at her friend with kind eyes. "It wouldn't be love if you weren't," she said softly. "Why are you fighting it?"

Hermione didn't actually have an answer. Well, an answer that she deemed reputable.

"Figure that out first," Luna said. "And then talk to him."

Hermione thought it best not to mention the kiss, mainly because voicing it would turn her into a bubbling mess.

Before Luna left, she put a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder. She didn't say anything but it was enough for Hermione. She didn't know why everybody didn't have a friend like Luna.

Then again, she didn't know why everybody didn't have a friend like Harry. And, through her own sheer stupidity, she was convinced she was about to lose him.

* * *

If Hermione thought Harry was going to be overtly awkward about their kiss, she was severely mistaken. The boy was as animated as ever as they sat side by side at breakfast, even cracking jokes with Ron about their upcoming match of Quidditch against Ravenclaw.

Harry even looked directly at her when he spoke to her, asking questions and discussing their Potions test that Friday. He was engaged in everything happening around him, even a little too much sometimes.

Hermione was a wreck, and it was quite evident in her features. If Harry noticed, he didn't mention it. In his mind, she felt bad about what had happened after the kiss, which was the reason she was acting strange. He didn't want her to feel guilty over her response. It just never occurred to him that she was lying about what she felt, at least about him.

And anyway, it wasn't as if Harry had explicitly told her what he felt either? Not that she was using it as an excuse, but she would use anything to make herself feel even a bit better.

"You should probably schedule extra practices," Ron said to Harry, thankfully between bites of his morning toast.

"Already done," Harry told him happily. "You should have checked the notice board before breakfast."

Ron just shook his head. "It's breakfast. I mean, really, who even has time for checking boards before food?"

Harry just laughed.

Hermione wasn't going to check to see if the laughter reached his eyes. All she could really do was marvel at how normal he was acting. Clearly, her rejection hadn't affected him as much as she anticipated. Had he just come to accept that he was wrong to think that they were both actually feeling more? That would mean she was right.

The day went about the same way. Harry wasn't acting at all awkward, even though Hermione sometimes was. At some point, his ease actually started to bother her. And she had to ask him about it. She managed to catch him after their afternoon classes, as he was returning to the dormitories.

"Harry," she began, suddenly feeling silly. "I know you said we were okay, but I just have to ask again…"

Before she could get the actual question out, he responded, cutting her off. "I told you that things would go back to the way they were. Isn't that what you wanted?"

She didn't respond.

"I'm fine, really," he told her strongly, convincingly. "And maybe you're right, I don't know. It would have been nice to see where it went but I'm not about to force feelings onto you. I've dealt with enough unrequited love for one person, don't you think?" He paused. "So it doesn't have to be weird," he reiterated. "Everything is back to normal. Let's let it stay that way, okay? But right now, I have to get changed for Quidditch practice. Are we done with this conversation?"

She nodded dumbly.

"Then I'll see you at dinner."

And then he was walking away. He wished he hadn't been so dismissive with her, but there was only so much time in her presence he could handle. And he had used up most of his quota for the day at breakfast. It was hard work pretending to be okay, but he was convinced he was doing a relatively good job of it.

It did, however, continue to worry Hermione. Because she knew him, she could tell when he was trying too hard. In her experience, avoiding it was never a good thing, which was why she continually asked if he was okay. He was normally quick and to the point with his answer, but she could sense growing hesitation.

What really worried her was his mood after they wrote their Potions test that Friday. He threw out his diminishing 'I'm fine' when Neville asked him how the paper went, which confused both boys.

Harry ended up laughing nervously. "Habit," he muttered. Then: "It was fine."

It really had been. Harry and Hermione, despite their precarious position, had managed to sit opposite each other in the library and prepare for a test. They had consciously avoided several topics of conversation, but that never stopped her from asking if he was okay.

All the time.

So, by lunchtime on the Sunday before the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, Harry had had enough. More than enough.

While they waited for Neville to join them in front of the Great Hall; she asked him the dreaded question once more, and he had no wherewithal to keep it together anymore. "Gosh, Hermione, would you stop asking if I'm okay?" he snapped at her.

She stepped back. "Harry?"

"No," he continued. "I said I'm fine. I said it, to make you feel better, okay? I told you that I have feelings for you."

"No you didn't," she snapped at him this time.

Harry frowned. "What?"

"You never actually said it, Harry. This whole time, you've been anything but direct with your words."

He stared at her for a good few seconds, trying to figure out what it was she was actually saying. "If you really believe that, then you clearly weren't listening. I mean, we even kissed, Hermione. We kissed, and it was the best thing that's happened to me all year. I was so convinced you felt it too. But clearly I was wrong, right? Because you said you felt nothing." He gave her a sharp look. "Nothing. Do you have any idea what that makes me feel? I kissed you, and you told me that you felt nothing. You said you wanted to forget that it ever happened.

"It hurts knowing that such a perfect, memorable experience for me is something you want wiped from memory. But I'm trying to get past it. That's what you want, isn't it? I'm trying to move on. I really am, because you're my best friend. And if I can't have you the way I want, then I have to settle for the certainty that we'll be friends forever, right? So I'm trying to get back to where we were. Why won't you let me?"

Hermione didn't even know what to say. His facial expression was a mixture of hurt, confusion, anger and even curiosity. She was just making a mess of everything. It would have been simple to tell him that she was wrong; that she was feeling everything he was feeling, if not more. But no words came out.

Harry lost his patience. "So just stop asking if I'm okay. Please. I'm about done lying about it anyway." And then he turned and started to walk away.

Hermione didn't call him back. She just stood and watched him walk away, wondering if they would ever really be able to get back to whatever it was they had before. If that was even what she wanted.

Harry rounded the corner, and stopped when he was fully out of sight. He had to, to catch his breath. He couldn't remember a time when he had gotten particularly irritated with Hermione before. Well, there was the incident with his Firebolt in their third year, and now her casual remarks about his Potions' textbook that he hadn't even used in weeks.

It bothered him that this was what things were like between them now. Was this the end of their relationship, as he knew it? He hoped that wasn't the case. He had no idea who he was without Hermione Granger.

Harry was worryingly distracted during the Quidditch match that afternoon. It, thankfully, didn't stop him from catching the Golden Snitch, invariably winning the match for Gryffindor. In fact, he caught the Snitch in almost record time, and he seemed the least happy about it, which was a fact not lost on anyone.

Including Ginny.

She was the first person to ask him about it, even as they were being congratulated by their teammates while they were still on the field.

"Aren't you happy we won?" she asked, eyeing him curiously.

"Of course I am," he said, still sounding distracted. It wasn't just that he didn't want to talk to her; he didn't want to talk to anyone.

"Well, you would do well to show it a bit more, mate," Ron said, coming up behind them and putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You look like Draco just caught the Snitch, and not you."

Harry forced a laugh out.

Ron watched in silence as he tried to figure out what had his raven-haired best friend so preoccupied.

In truth, Harry was also quite irritated with himself. He was all too aware that his head definitely hadn't been in the match, which was what Ron pointed out to him when Harry decided to call it a day and leave the field.

"I'm well aware of that. Thank you for pointing it out, Ron," Harry snapped again as they walked. He was making a habit of it.

Ron didn't take it too personally, as they headed into the now-empty changing rooms. "I get that things have been a bit weird – actually, a lot more than weird – but you can still talk to me, you know? I might not be as smart as Hermione but I think I can hold my own."

Harry should have appreciated his sentiment, but he was on an almost destructive path. And the fact that Ron mentioned Hermione definitely hadn't helped.

"Mate?" Ron prompted.

"How am I supposed to talk to you, huh, Ron?" Harry asked accusingly. He stopped walking near their cubicles and faced his redheaded best friend, steel in his eyes. "Seriously, Ron? Please do enlighten me."

Ron frowned. "What do you mean?"

Harry knew he shouldn't. A voice was screaming at him from the back of his mind for him to stop. But once the words started coming out of his mouth, they didn't stop. "You've been so wrapped up in your little Lavender bubble, you don't even know what's going on with your best friend. I shouldn't have to _tell_ you, Ron. You're supposed to be around. You're supposed to be here. You can't just forget us the second you get a girlfriend, you know? Because the truth really is that everybody knows you and Lavender won't last. Everybody. Including you, I suspect."

Ron had no response.

"And then what are you going to do when that happened?" he continued. "Just come back, and hope that we're still around, waiting desperately for your return?"

Ron still said nothing.

"And as far as talking to you about all of the stuff going on with me; I strongly suspect that you're the wrong person for all the stuff that's going on in my head right now."

Ron's voice was small when he eventually spoke. "Because it's about Hermione?"

Harry lost it at those words. He just couldn't handle it anymore. "Stop asking me about Hermione! Please. Just for one minute, can you and everybody else just stop bringing her up? Please." His voice almost turned to pleading by the end of his outburst, which actually surprised both boys.

"Did something happen?" Ron asked. He had to. It was something he had to know.

"Of course not," Harry said quickly. Then, sadly, he added, "Nothing happened." That word 'nothing' reverberated through his mind. How was it that one little word could hold so much power?

Ron read his face. "You're lying."

Harry frowned. "How can you tell?"

"Hermione isn't the only one who pays attention, you know?" he said hotly. "What I don't understand is why you'd say nothing happened when clearly something did."

"But nothing did happen."

"You're still lying."

"Well, of course I'm lying," Harry said, almost laughing at the entire situation. "I mean, of course something happened. We've been spending all this time together, hiding from you and –" he stopped abruptly, checking himself before he said something he would surely regret. He let out a long sigh. "All I'm saying is that something was always bound to happen, right? But it doesn't even matter anymore."

"Why not?" Ron asked curiously, trying to figure what exactly Harry was trying to say. Why would the two of them be hiding from him?

"Because it doesn't," Harry said dismissively.

"It must matter, Harry. I've known you for a long time now, and we've been through a lot of things, but I've never seen you act like this before," he pointed out. "What happened?"

Harry stared at his best friend for a moment. Ron looked very calm. Nothing at all like Harry felt. In fact, he even considered telling Ron that he had fallen in love with Hermione, but that would have been an admission shocking for both of them.

"What happened?" Ron asked again.

"Nothing."

"Something did. Just tell me what happened."

Harry sighed. "We kissed, okay? We kissed. No big deal."

Ron wasn't sure how exactly he felt about that piece of news. He could dissect those feelings later. Right now, he somehow needed to make sense of the situation in front of him. "Right, well, that's news to me," he admitted. "Although, for a while there, I could have sworn you had a thing for Ginny. Which is just crazy, right?"

Harry didn't dare respond to that. Clearly, Ron did pay attention.

"So you and Hermione kissed," he continued. "That's good, isn't it?"

Harry set his _Firebolt_ down on a bench and started to remove his gloves. "No it's not."

"Well, why not?"

"Because she wishes it never happened."

Ron pressed his lips together as he thought about that. Then, wanting to ease his best friend's heavyset frown, he said: "Was it really that bad?"

Harry wasn't amused.

Ron noticed. "Look, I'm sorry, mate," he said. "What can I do?"

In the entire time Harry had spent trying to come to terms with Hermione's rejection; he hadn't really thought about the role Ron played in all of it. Surely, part of the reason, if not all, that Hermione felt nothing for him was because of her feelings towards Ron. For a moment, Harry felt resentful, but it passed quickly. It wasn't easy to stay mad at Ron. And plus, what kind of person would he be if he didn't want his two favourite people in the world to be happy, particularly if it were with each other?

Harry knew he was better than that, but this was real life. It turned out that the person he liked didn't like him back.

"Did she tell you why?" Ron felt he had to ask, acknowledging that he was cutting into Harry's deep thoughts.

Harry realised he was fiddling with his uniform and stopped quite suddenly, dropping his arms to his sides. "Excuse me?"

"Did she tell you why she wanted to forget all about it?"

Harry blinked a few times. "She didn't have to. I already know."

Ron frowned. "Well, why then? Is that what's got you all worked up?"

"I am not worked up!" he snapped.

Ron held his hands up in mock surrender. "Fine. You're not worked up. What was her reason?"

"Ron, it really doesn't matter," Harry dismissed.

Ron didn't drop it. "She has a reason, and it's got you acting unlike yourself. What did she say?"

Harry took a long, calming breath. "Ron, just leave it alone."

He didn't heed the warning. "I think I can help. Just tell me. Maybe I can be mediator. I think that's the word. I can fix this. You'll see."

"No you can't," Harry said through gritted teeth, his irritation rising again.

"I can," Ron said, standing up straight. "You say I've been a terrible friend, whatever; but I can fix it. I know I can."

Harry glared at him. "Seriously, leave it alone. The last thing I want is you of all people getting involved."

Ron looked hurt. And then a bit confused. "What does that even mean?"

"It means what it means."

"And what is that?"

"Just trust me that your getting involved in whatever Hermione and I _don't_ have going on is what is best for everyone."

That only increased Ron's curiosity. "Oh, now you have to tell me. You cannot just bring that up and not explain it to me. That would make you a terrible, terrible person."

Harry hated how amused he looked. This was not a time to be amused. This was all very serious. And he wanted to end the conversation before he ended up saying something he would come to regret.

"Seriously, Harry. I'm here now. I want to be brought into the loop. What if I can help? Just tell me what's going on."

Just hearing her name was enough to set him off again. "Ron, gosh, can't you just give it a rest? I don't want to talk about it anymore. All you need to know is that Hermione and I kissed. She felt nothing. End of story. There isn't much else to tell."

"I hear you, mate, but I want to know why?"

"Why what?" he asked, his irritation peaked.

"Why's she feel nothing?"

"Because she did," he deflected.

"But why?" Ron pressed.

"Because she did."

"But what?"

Harry's fists clenched. He'd had enough. "Because of you!"

Ron looked surprised.

"Surprised, aren't you?" Harry continued. "Are you happy now? Because of you. Now you know." He shook his head vigorously. "She feels nothing for me because she has feelings for you. I mean, how great is that? It's just bloody fantastic.

"The reason we were acting so weird is because she likes you, Ron. You! And seeing you with Lavender was too much for her to handle; not me. I've never had a crush on your girlfriend, so you really don't have to worry about my stealing her. You're just a lucky bastard right now, aren't you? Two girls competing for you.

"But it shouldn't even be a competition. Hermione wins hands down. So you'd better get your act together and figure it out, because it's you she chose. Not me. And that sucks. It really does, but it's over now. And it would do us all a world of good to just move on."

Ron just stared, the shock of Harry's revelation a little too paralysing.

Harry wasn't in the mood to stick around for any questions, so he retrieved his _Firebolt_ and gloves before he headed out. What he didn't expect to find was Hermione waiting in front of the boys' changing room.

"I wanted to congratulate you on the win," she said, choosing not to comment on the pained look on his face.

Before Harry could say anything, Ron appeared in the doorway behind him.

"Harry?" Ron asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Harry turned to look at Ron, before his attention returned to Hermione. His heart was racing.

Hermione looked from Harry to Ron, and then back to Harry. The looks on their faces told her the story; a story she didn't particularly like. "Harry?" she whispered.

The three of them existed in a warped moment of confusion and utter clarity. Things were up in the air now. It was probably about time they started coming down.

Harry kept his eyes on Hermione. "He knows," he admitted sadly. "I'm really sorry."

With that, he walked away, leaving Ron and Hermione to catch the falling pieces.

* * *

Harry didn't make it to breakfast on time the next morning. Ron and Hermione sat opposite each other, unsure what to make of their friend's absence. It wasn't that it was particularly unlike Harry to run late in the mornings, but this wasn't any ordinary day. This was the day after he had revealed to Ron that Hermione – once – had feelings for him.

"Was he there when you woke up this morning?" Hermione asked, unable to think about even looking at her breakfast.

Unlike the boy opposite her. Ron's mouth was already stuffed with food, which was why all he could do was shake his head at her question.

Hermione thought about that for a moment. "He's avoiding us," she eventually stated.

"He probably thinks we're about to get together or something," Ron offered. "You probably should have cleared up your feelings for him from the very beginning."

Hermione glared at him. "I'm well aware of my shortcomings, thank you very much, Ronald. And, for your information, I wasn't even aware of my feelings in the beginning. And, to add to that, it's actually a lot harder to be brave with something so personal."

He just smirked. "Look, you don't have to convince me," he said. "Although, you should know, I find it all so amazing because it turns out that I was actually right this whole time."

After the bits of conversation she recalled from the previous night, she needed to be sure about what he was referring. "About what?" she asked.

"You and Harry. I had a feeling there was something going on, and now look; I was totally right."

Hermione's features softened. "I'm sorry about the way we acted, by that way."

"You already said that."

"I know, but I still feel bad about it. I just couldn't handle it, and Harry was kind enough to keep me company. Who knew we would end up in this situation after all of that?"

"I would think a lot of people," Ron pointed out. "I mean, I'm not claiming to be some kind of expert on relationships and love and what not, but even you have to have known you and Harry had some special bond."

Hermione frowned.

"You've even got that ridiculous wavelength going on, where you can just look at each other and properly have an entire conversation. It's annoying."

Hermione had to smile at that.

"So, yeah, I would think not too many people are surprised that you two have finally seen what the rest of us see."

Hermione shook her head. "Isn't it just too simple though? Is this who I am in his story? Just the female best friend who is the romantic interest of the Boy-Who-Lived while he works to save the world from the Dark Lord?"

Ron waited a beat before he responded. "Don't ever downgrade yourself to anything less than you are, Hermione. You have to know that Harry sees you as more than that. I do too. Everyone here. You aren't doing yourself a disservice by feeling what you feel for Harry. If it's meant to be, it's meant to be."

Hermione had to admit that she was rather surprised by the boy sitting in front of her. "Honestly, who are you, and what have you done with Ronald Weasley?"

He laughed out loud at that. "It's Lavender's influence," he explained. "She's made me see things a little differently, which sometimes isn't such a bad thing. I mean, don't get me wrong, I fully understand why you and Harry retreated into wherever you two went. Lavender can be quite, umm, in your face, but I'm happy with her. For now, at least. Apparently everybody knows that we're not going to last, but I don't see what's so wrong with being happy. And I want you to be happy too. With Harry. Or with whoever. Just as long as you're happy."

Hermione smiled at him, feeling her heart swell up. "Thank you, Ron."

Ron felt a bit embarrassed. "Now all we need is for that git to show up so you can tell him how wrong you were and we can move on with our lives. It's going to be priceless."

Hermione was about to make a comment when she spotted Lavender headed their way. Hurriedly. Hermione knew no good could come of it.

Lavender slipped in beside Ron, immediately linking an arm with his. "You will never believe what just happened," she began, not even bothering to greet either one of them.

"What?" Ron prompted.

"So I was just in the common room, right? And all of a sudden, Dean and Seamus got into a heated row over, get this, your sister, Ginny," she said, her eyes dancing with excitement.

"What?" It was Hermione this time.

"I'm telling you," Lavender looked at her. "They were about to throw punches, or draw wands, I suppose, when Harry stepped in to stop them. It was a right mess, I'm telling you. When I left, Dean and Seamus were being held apart, and Harry was leading a crying Ginny away from it all. Like, can you imagine? What a start to the week!"

Ron seemed to recover first. "Dean _and_ Seamus?"

The only thing Hermione remembered about what Lavender said was that Harry was with Ginny. They were off somewhere talking, and she was probably crying on his shoulder, and he was probably trying to comfort her. And doing a good job of it as well. And before anyone knew it, they would be happily married with three happy children and happily boring lives.

Hermione had to stop herself. She was being ridiculous. And… jealous? That was the name of the feeling. She was being ridiculously jealous. Harry and Ginny were just talking. That's all it was.

Ron shook his head, still unbelieving. "Dean _and_ Seamus?" he asked again.

Lavender nodded her head. "Dean and Ginny have been fighting for so long. Apparently Seamus stepped in and told her that he could treat her better. I guess the boys found out, and they had a right go at each other."

Ron took a deep breath, trying to process everything. "You said my sister's with Harry right now?"

Lavender was about to nod, but then she spotted the broody wizard enter the Great Hall. "Apparently not anymore."

Both Ron and Hermione's attentions turned towards Harry, who walked straight towards where they were sitting at the Gryffindor table. Without a word, he slipped in beside Hermione; not as close as usual, but close enough for her to feel the heat.

Before Harry reached for a muffin, he said, "Good morning."

Nobody said anything for a few seconds.

Lavender broke the silence. "Did she tell you the full story?" she asked Harry.

Harry's hand stopped just before he took a bite. "Excuse me?"

"Ginny," Lavender prompted.

Hermione was about to get up to leave. The last thing she wanted was to hear Harry talk about how he managed to comfort Ginny, in whatever way she needed. Her mind drifted to unsavoury places, and she was quite ashamed of herself.

"She's fine," Harry said, not answering Lavender's question, and keeping Hermione in her seat. "She's with her friends now," he added. "My place isn't there anyway. It's right here."

Lavender looked a bit mystified, but Ron just put a hand on her arm to stop her from questioning Harry any further. The fact that Harry was actually sitting there was enough for him. Maybe there was hope for his two friends to work things out after all.

Hermione kept her eyes focused on the table in front of her. Harry was sitting beside her. He wasn't trying to avoid her. And he wasn't interested in offering _comfort_ to Ginny. He was sitting right next to her. Merely that fact almost made her smile.

"You should probably check on her though," Harry continued, speaking to Ron. "Having friends around is one thing, but it's family that really counts."

Ron nodded his head. "Do you really think she would talk to me?"

Harry shook his head. "Probably not, but that isn't really the point. It's about knowing that you're there. At least that's what I think. I can't claim to know much about family."

It was Lavender who spoke. "No, you're definitely right, Harry," she said kindly, sensing something unspoken lingering in the air.

That's when Hermione decided to speak. She turned to look at the boy beside her. She took a moment to catch her breath and then the words came out: "Harry, do you think I could talk to you? Outside?"

Despite himself, Harry hesitated. "Umm, I'm kind of having breakfast here, Hermione," he managed to say, wanting to put off this potential conversation.

"Mate," Ron said, looking at Harry. "You _want_ to talk to her. It's important."

Harry swallowed, looking from Ron to Hermione, and then back to Ron. "Okay," he said skeptically, setting down his still untouched muffin.

Hermione started to move first, standing up and stepping away from the table. She waited until Harry was also standing up, before she led the way out of the Great Hall and into an empty corridor.

But it was Harry who spoke first, stopping about a metre away from her. "Look, if you're about to tell me that you and Ron are now together, I really don't want to hear it."

Hermione frowned. "No, that's not what happened, after your revelation yesterday. Thank you for that, by the way."

Harry looked down at the cobbled ground, out of guilt and embarrassment. He felt like he had to explain himself. "He was nagging me," he began. "It just sort of came out. I'm sorry."

"No, it's all right, Harry. Really," she assured him. "Ron and I had a talk. It was good for us to get it all out in the open."

Harry looked at her. "So, you guys… umm?"

"We're not together. And probably will never be."

He frowned. "But…?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "I will admit that, for a while there, I was convinced that he was the one I wanted to be with. It just seemed like the way things were supposed to be, mainly because a girl like me never ends up with the hero of the story."

He frowned. "A girl like you?"

"Book-smart. Somewhat awkward. Bossy. Those character traits don't exactly make a girl noteworthy."

He shook his head. This was something he had to say, no matter how hurt he was: "But there's so much more to you, Hermione. The fact that you don't see it breaks my heart. I know that, for years, Ron and I have overlooked you, and that has nothing to do with you. It's us. It's me.

"That day we saved you from the mountain troll, we should have known it would always be a factor in our relationships. We keep saving one another. That's what we do. And I know that it shouldn't have taken me so long to see you as I see you now, but I've finally come to me senses."

"And so have I."

Harry remained silent, curiosity keeping him from speaking. What did that mean?

"It was never Ron," she finally said. "When I was faced with his knowing of my once feelings, I knew it to be true. The fact that he knew and was able to tell me that he didn't feel the same way had absolutely no effect on me. In fact, I was relieved." She watched his features for any sign of what he was thinking, but he gave nothing away. "I was relieved because it all suddenly made sense to me. And you know how much I need things to make sense."

Harry nodded subconsciously.

"I lied to you," she admitted. "After the kiss, everything I said was a lie. I was acting stupid, and I was scared, and it was all very overwhelming. All of a sudden, you were there, looking at me with this fire burning in your eyes, and I realised that it was everything I had ever wanted.

"And you seemed to want it too. You wanted me, and it was probably the most scared I've ever been, which is saying a lot because we've been through quite a bit, you and me. But you were looking at me so expectantly, and I started to worry about the future again, and that would happen if it all fell apart. So I told you I felt nothing. I said those words, when the truth is, Harry, that I felt everything. Everything."

Harry just blinked.

Unlike the boy standing in front of her, Hermione decided it was a good idea to be direct, and say exactly what she meant. "I don't want to worry about the future anymore. I'm sure of you, Harry. We kissed, and I realised that I didn't just love you; I was in love with you. I am. For years, we've stood side by side, facing all sorts of evil and coming out stronger than ever. But it literally took two Weasley siblings to make me figure out that the thing I'll regret most in my life is not telling you, right now, that it's always been you, Harry. It always will. And I just had to make sure you knew."

The silence between them stretched on for up to a minute, as Harry replayed her words over and over in his head. There were so many things he wanted to say, but nothing seemed to come out.

Hermione waited, watching his face with such intensity.

When Harry finally figured out what to say, it was too late. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, a group of students rounded the corner, interrupting their moment. The students hovered for a while, oblivious to the profound conversation going on between two of the famous student wizards of Hogwarts.

Harry and Hermione stood awkwardly while they waited, deeming it too rude to walk off. They probably should have, because the following onrush of students from the Hall heading to class made it near impossible to speak when the first bell sounded.

Before Harry was swept away in the crowd, he managed to say: "We'll talk later?"

She could barely reply her weak 'Okay' before he was gone.

* * *

Harry was on edge all day. He just couldn't sit still. _Later_ couldn't come fast enough for him. He had to see her; to talk to her.

But they kept missing each other. Their classes dragged on, with them stealing glances at each other, unable to pass words. And, during lunch, Harry was roped into a meeting with Professor Slughorn. He would have to endure afternoon classes to finally reply to her morning revelation.

After class let out, Harry hurriedly made his way to the Gryffindor common room. He didn't find Hermione, which didn't bother him too much. If she wasn't there, then she had to be in the library.

He raced through the castle, avoiding people as best he could in his hurry. He slowed to normal walking speed when he got close to their spot in the library, his heart rate also slowing down. Until it picked up again, merely at the sight of her.

Hermione was seated in her usual, reading some large book that he deemed unimportant in that moment. She looked up when she heard him approach.

Harry set his books down on the table before his eyes settled on her. "Hi," he said, his voice breathy.

"Hey," she said softly.

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Do you want to take a walk?"

Hermione answered by closing her book and rising to her feet. They fell into step beside each other as they exited the library and strolled the corridors in silence.

It wasn't until they were in a courtyard, with the glorious sun shining down on them, that Hermione decided to ask him about it.

"Harry, are we ever going to talk about what I told you this morning?"

He stopped walking and turned to look at her. "I was wondering how long it would take you to say something," he said, slightly amused.

Hermione's cheeks tinged pink. "Well…?"

He took a deep breath. "You told me you're in love with me."

She nodded. "I did."

That old mischief glinted in his eyes. She hadn't seen it in a while. "I should have you know, Hermione; that girls tell me they're in love with me, all the time," he said proudly.

Hermione couldn't stop her glare, which quickly turned into amusement, as he continued.

"It's just a thing that I have to deal with, you know, being Harry Potter and all. I don't even know what it is, but the girls, they just cannot resist me. I have to beat them away with my _Firebolt_ sometimes. It's just sad." He was smiling as he stepped towards her. "Now I'm going to have to tell them, no, no, ladies, not today, never again, because I'm taken."

Hermione's eyes snapped towards him. "What?"

He tilted his head slightly. "What? Weren't you listening?"

She punched his arm. "Seriously."

"It's a good thing you told me you're in love with me, Hermione, because it definitely would have made what I'm about to tell you really awkward."

She waited patiently and expectantly.

He smirked, gearing himself up for the rubbish he was surely about to say. "Your hair looks especially out of control today."

She gasped. "Oh my. You positively are the worst, do you know that?"

"So she repeatedly tells me," he said, shrugging. "You better get used to it."

She met his gaze. "Harry."

"Hermione."

She waited.

"You want me to be direct; I'll be direct, Hermione. I'll say it. I'm in love with you too. Is that what you want to hear?" He paused for her reaction. He received a huge smile but no response. "Is that enough? Because I could have said that I can't imagine a life without you, and I want to spend every minute of every day with you, because you make me the happiest I've ever felt. I also could have said that, sure, now I think about the future, with you. I want to have hopes and dreams, and grow old and be happy with a family with lots of Potter children and their sometimes strict, no fun, but amazingly great mother."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out.

"You said it yourself: let Voldemort come. Together, with Ron, with Dumbledore's army, we'll find a way to defeat him. I believe it because you believe it. Because, when it came down to what I wanted from my life, it didn't matter what it was, as long as it involved you." He stopped and took a small step towards her again. "Those are the things I could have said. But you seem to be happy with 'I'm in love with you too.'"

She pressed her lips together, forcing herself to nod her head. "It'll do," she said softly.

He just smiled.

"So," she said, standing up a bit straighter; "Answer me this: are you ever going to kiss me?"

He raised an eyebrow in her direction, shaking his head. "The girl is so impatient." Then: "People could see."

"I don't care."

He stepped towards her again; close enough to feel the heat of her body and her breath on his neck.

"Just be careful," Hermione felt she had to say, as his right hand touched her cheek, and then her neck. "The last time we did this, I almost melted to the ground."

A smile spread across his lips, his left hand finding her waist, as he leaned in to kiss her. Finally. "Don't worry, Hermione," he whispered, hot breath against her lips; "I'll be sure to hold you up."

* * *

_Fin_


End file.
